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XXXIX.

< Thus let me hold thee to my heart, "And ev'ry care refign :

"And fhall we never, never part,

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"No, never, from this hour to part, "We'll live and love fo true;

"The figh that rends thy conftant heart, "Shall break thy Edwin's too.”

AN

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 wond'rous fhort,
It cannot hold you long.

In Ifling-ton there was a man,

Of whom the world might fay, That still a godly race he ran, Whene'er he went to pray.

A kind and gentle heart he had,
To comfort friends and foes;
The naked ev'ry day he clad,
When he put on his cloaths.

And in that town a dog was found,

As many dogs there be,

Both mungrel, puppy, whelp, and hound,

And curs of low degree.

This

*This, and the following poem, appeared in The Vicar of

Wakefield, which was published in the year 1765.

This dog and man at first were friends;
But when a pique began,

The dog, to gain fome private ends,

Went mad and bit the man.

Around from all the neighb'ring streets,
The wond'ring neighbours ran,
And swore the dog had loft his wits,
To bite fo good a man.

The wound it feem'd both fore and fad,
To every christian eye;

And while they fwore the dog was mad,
They fwore the man would die.

But foon a wonder came to light,
That fhew'd the rogues they ly'd;
The man recover'd of the bite,
The dog it was that dy'd.

STANZAS

STANZAS

ON

WOMA N.

WHEN lovely woman stoops to folly,

And finds too late that men betray, What charm can foothe her melancholy, What art can wash her guilt away?

The only art her guilt to cover,

To hide her fhame from ev'ry eye,
To give repentance to her lover,
And wring his bofom-is to die.

THE

THE

TRAVELLER;

OR,

A PROSPECT OF SOCIETY.

A

POEM,

FIRST PRINTED IN M,DCC,LXV.

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