Young as I am! 'tis monftrous hard! What more he urg'd I have not heard, His hour-glafs trembled while he spoke, farewell: No more • Shall Death disturb your mirthful hour; To give you time for preparation, In hopes you'll have no more to fay, But when I call again this way, 'Well pleas'd the world will leave.. To thefe conditions both confented, And parted perfectly contented. What What next the hero of our tale befel, And fmok'd his pipe, and strok'd his horse, He chaffer'd then, he bought, he fold, Nor thought of death as near: He pafs'd his hours in peace; But while he view'd his wealth increase, Old Time, whofe hafte no mortal spares, Brought on his eightieth year. And now one night in mufing mood, As all alone he fate, Th' unwelcome meffenger of fate Half kill'd with anger and surprise, • Surely, Surely, my friend, you're but in jeft; 'Tis fix-and-thirty years at least, So much the worse,' the Clown rejoin'd; To fpare the aged would be kind : Befides, you. promis'd me Three Warnings, • Which I have look'd for nights and mornings: But for that lofs of time and eafe, I can recover damages.' • I know, cries. Death, that at the best, < I feldom am a welcome gueft; • But don't be captious, friend, at leaft; 'I little thought you'd ftill be able To stump about your farm and stable; ‹ Your years have run to a great length, I wish you joy tho' of your ftrength.' 'Hold,' fays the farmer, 'not so fast I have been lame thefe four years past.' 'And no great wonder,' Death replies, • However, you still keep your eyes; • And fure to fee one's loves and friends, For legs and arms would make amends.' Perhaps,' fays Dobson, so it might, But latterly I've loft my fight."T This • This is a fhocking story, faith, Yet there's fome comfort ftill,' fays Death; • Each strives your fadness to amuse; 'I warrant you hear all the news.' 'There's none,' cries he, and if there were, I'm grown fo deaf I could not hear.' Nay then, the spectre stern rejoin'd, If you are lame, and deaf, and blind, • So come along, no more we'll part :' COLIN COLIN AND LUCY*. OF F Leinster, fam'd for maidens fair, Till luckless love, and pining care, Her coral lips, and damask cheeks, So droop'd the flow-confuming maid, By Lucy warn'd, of flatt'ing fwains Of vengeance due to broken vows, A bell was heard to ring; * Tickell. Too |