AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF A MAD DOG. Good people all, of ev'ry sort, Give ear unto my song; And if you find it wondrous short, In Islington there was a man, A kind and gentle heart he had, When he put on his clothes. And in that town a dog was found, As many dogs there be, Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound, And curs of low degree. This dog and man at first were friends; But when a pique began, The dog, to gain his private ends, Around from all the neighb'ring streets To bite so good a man. The wound it seem'd both sore and sad To ev'ry 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. N AN ELEGY ON THE GLORY OF HER SEX, MRS. MARY BLAIZE. GOOD people all, with one accord, Who never wanted a good word From those who spoke her praise. The needy seldom pass'd her door, She strove the neighborhood to please, With manners wondrous winning; And never follow'd wicked ways— Unless when she was sinning. At church, in silks and satins new, With hoop of monstrous size; She never slumber'd in her pew But when she shut her eyes. By twenty beaux and more; The king himself has follow'd her— When she has walk'd before. But now her wealth and fin'ry fled, Her hangers-on cut short-all; The doctors found, when she was dead, Her last disorder mortal. Let us lament, in sorrow sore, For Kent-street well may say, That, had she liv'd a twelvemonth more,— She had not died to-day. |