This dog and man at first were friends; But when a pique began, The dog, to gain his private ends, Went mad, and bit the man. Around from all the neighbouring streets The wondering people ran, And swore the dog had lost his wits, The wound it seem'd both sore and sad To every Christian eye; And while they swore the dog was mad, They swore the man would die. But soon a wonder came to light, The man recover'd of the bite; The dog it was that died. AN ELEGY ON THE GLORY OF HER SEX, MRS. MARY BLAIZE.1 GOOD people all, with one accord, The needy seldom pass'd her door, She strove the neighbourhood to please, At church, in silks and satins new, Her love was sought, I do aver, 1 See The Bee, No. iv. But now, her wealth and finery fled, The doctors found, when she was dead- Let us lament in sorrow sore; For Kent-street well may. say, That had she liv'd a twelvemonth more 2 This poem [as well as the Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog] is an imitation of the chanson called 'Le fameux la Galisse, homme imaginaire,' in fifty stanzas, printed in the Ménagiana, iv. 191: • Messieurs, vous plait-il d'ouir L'air du fameux la Galisse, Il pourra vous réjouir, Pourvû qu'il vous divertisse THE CLOWN'S REPLY. JOHN TROTT was desir'd by two witty peers To tell them the reason why asses had ears. 'An't please you,' quoth John, 'I'm not given to letters, Nor dare I pretend to know more than my betters: Howe'er, from this time I shall ne'er see your As I hope to be sav'd!-without thinking on asses.' Edinburgh, 1753. ON A BEAUTIFUL YOUTH STRUCK BLIND BY LIGHTNING. IMITATED FROM THE SPANISH.1 SURE 'twas by Providence design'd, STANZAS ON THE TAKING OF QUEBEC.2 AMIDST the clamour of exulting joys, Which triumph forces from the patriot heart, Grief dares to mingle her soul-piercing voice, And quells the raptures which from pleasures start. O Wolfe! to thee a streaming flood of woe, Sighing we pay, and think e'en conquest dear: Quebec in vain shall teach our breast to glow, Whilst thy sad fate extorts the heart-wrung tear. Alive the foe thy dreadful vigour fled, And saw thee fall with joy-pronouncing eyes: Yet they shall know thou conquerest, tho' dead! Since from thy tomb a thousand heroes rise. 1 See The Bee, No. i. 2 First printed in The Busy Body, 1759.--P. C. |