EPITAPH

EDWARD

O N

PURDO N. *

HERE

ERE lies poor NED PURDON, from mifery freed,

Who long was a bookfeller's hack;

He led fuch a damnable life in this world,-
I don't think he'll wish to come back.

* This gentleman was educated at Trinity College, Dublin; but having wasted his patrimony, he enlisted as a foot foldier. Growing tired of that employment, he obtained his difcharge, and became a fcribbler in the newfpapers. He tranflated Voltaire's HENRIADE.

ELE

GOOD people all, with one accord,

Lament for madam Blaize,

Who never wanted a good word-
From those who spoke her praife.

The needy feldom pafs'd her door,
And always found her kind;
She freely lent to all the poor,-
Who left a pledge behind.

She ftrove the neighbourhood to pleafe,

With manners wond'rous winning;

And never follow'd wicked ways,

Unless when he was finning.

At

At church, in filks and fatins new,

With hoop of monstrous fize; She never flumber'd in her pew,But when she shut her eyes.

Her love was fought, I do aver,
By twenty beaux and more;
The king himself has follow'd her,-
When she has walk'd before.

But now her wealth and finery fled,
Her hangers-on cut short all;
The doctors found, when she was dead,-
Her laft diforder mortal.

Let us lament, in forrow fore,

For Kent-ftreet well may fay,
That had the lived a twelvemonth more,-
She had not dy'd to-day.

RETA

Dr. Goldsmith and fome of his friends occafionally dined at the St. James's Coffee-house-One day it was proposed to write epitaphs on him. His country, dialect, and perfon, furnished subjects of witicism. He was called on for RETALIATION, and at their next meeting, produced the following poem.