SONG. O MEMORY! thou fond deceiver, And turning all the past to pain: Thou, like the world, the opprest oppressing, 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 graces, As I hope to be sav'd! without thinking on asses." Edinburgh, 1753. EPITAPH ON EDWARD PURDON.* HERE lies poor NED PURDON, from misery freed, Who long was a bookseller's hack; He led such 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 in listed as a foot soldier. Growing tired of that employment, he obtained his discharge, and became a scribbler in the Newspapers. He translated Voltaire's HENRIADE. AN ELEGY 1 ON THE GLORY OF HER SEX, MRS MARY BLAIZE. 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, But now her wealth and finery fled, The doctors found, when she was dead,- Let us lament, in sorrow sore, That had she liv'd a twelvemonth more,- |