AN ELEGY

ON THE DEATH OF A MAD DOG,
Good people all, of every sort,

Give ear unto my song,
And if you find it wond'rous short,
It cannot hold you long,

In Islington there was a man,

Of whom the world might say,
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 every day he clad,

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,
Went mad and bit the man.

Around from all the neighbouring streets,
The wond'ring neighbours ran;

And swore the dog had lost his wits,
To bite so good a man,

The wound it seemed 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,

That shew'd the rogues they lied;

The man recover'd of the bite,
The dog it was that died.

A very good boy, Bill, upon my word; and an elegy that may be truly called tragical Come, children, here's Bill's health, and may he one day be a bishop!“

,,With all my heart," cried my wife;,,and if he but preaches as well as he sings, I make no doubt of him. The most of his family by the mother's side could sing a good song; it was a common saying in our country, that the family of the Blenkinsops could never look straight before them, nor the Hugginson's blow out a candle; that there were none of the Grograms but could sing a song, or of the Marjorams but could tell a story.",,However that be," cried I,,,the most vulgar ballad of all generally pleases me better than the fine modern odes, and things that petrify in a single stanza; productions that we at once detest and praise. Put the glass to your brother Moses. The great fault of these elegiasts is, that they are in despair for griefs that give the sensible part of mankind very little pain. A lady loses her muff, her fan, her lap-dog, and the silly poet runs home to versify the disaster."

,,That may be the mode," cried Moses,,, in sublimer composition; but the Ranelagh songs that come down to us are perfectly familiar, and all cast in the same mould: Collin meets Dolly, and they hold a dialogue together; he gives her a fairing to put in her hair, and she presents him with a nosegay; and they go together to church, where they give good advice to nymphs and swains to get married as fast as they can."

,,And very good advice too," cried I;,,and I am told there is not a place in the world where advice can be given with so much propriety as there; for, as it persuades us to marry, it also furnishes us with a wife; and surely that must be an excellent market,

my boy, where we are told what we want, and supplied with it when wanting, "

"Yes, Sir," returned Moses,,,and I know but of two such markets for wives in Europe; Ranelagh in England, and Fontarabia in Spain. The Spanish market is open once a-year, but our English wives are saleable every night."

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,,You are right, my boy," cried his mother.,,Old England is the only place in the world for husbands to get wives." And for wives to manage their husbands," interrupted I.,,It is a proverb abroad, that if a bridge were built across the sea, all the ladies on the Continent would come over to take a pattern from ours: for there are no such wives in Europe as our own. But let us have one bottle more, Deborah, my life and Moses, give us a good song. What thanks do we not owe to Heaven for thus bestowing tranquillity, health, and competence! I think myself now happier than the greatest monarch upon earth. He has no such fire-side, nor such pleasant faces about it. Yes, Deborah, we are now growing old; but the evening of our life is likely to be happy. We are descended from ancestors that knew no stain, and we shall leave a good and virtuous race of children behind us. While we live they will be our -support and our pleasure here, and when we die they will transmit our honour untainted to posterity. Come, my son, we wait for a song: let us have a chorus. But where is my darling Olivia? that little cherub's voice is always sweetest in the concert." Just as I spoke, Dick came running in, „O papa, papa, she is gone from us, she is gone from us; my sister Livy is gone from us for ever!,,Gone, child!" -,,Yes, she is gone off with two gentlemen in a post-chaise; and one of them kissed her, and said he would die for her; and she cried very much, and was

for coming back; but he persuaded her again, and she went into the chaise, and said,",,O what will my poor papa do, when he knows I am undone." ,,Now, then," cried I,,,my children, go and be miserable; for we shall never enjoy one hour more. And O may Heaven's everlasting fury light upon him and his! Thus to rob me of my child! And sure it will, for taking back my sweet innocent that I was leading up to Heaven. Such sincerity as my child was possest of! But all our earthly happiness is now over! Go, my children, go and be miserable and infamous; for my heart is broken within me!", Father," cried my son,,,is this your fortitude?-,,Fortitude, child! Yes, he shall see I have fortitude! Bring me my pistols. I'll pursue the traitor. While he is on earth, I'll pursue him. Old as I am, he shall find I can sting him yet. The villain, perfidious villain!" I had by this time reached down my pistols, when my poor wife, whose passions were not so strong as mine, caught me in her arms, My dearest, dearest husband," cried she,,,the Bible is the only weapon that is fit for your old hands now. Open that, my love, and read our anguish into patience, for she has vilely deceived us."—,,Indeed, Sir," resumed my son, after a pause,,, ,, your rage is too violent and unbecoming. You should be my mother's comforter, and you increase her pain. It ill suited you and your reverend character thus to curse your greatest enemy: you should not have cursed him, villain as he is ",,I did not curse him, child, did I?",,Indeed, Sir, you did; you cursed him twice.",,Then may Heaven forgive me and him, if I did. And now, my son, I see it was more than human benevolence that first taught us to bless our enemies. Blest be his holy name for all the good he has given, and for all that he hath

here.

taken away. But it is not, it is not a small distress that can wring tears from these old eyes, that have not wept for so many years. My child! to undo my darling! May confusion seize! Heaven forgive me! What am I about to say? You may remember, my love, how good she was, and how charming till this vile moment, all her care was to make us happy. Had she but died! But she is gone, the honour of our family contaminated, and I must look out for happiness in other worlds than But, my child, you saw them go off; perhaps he forced her away. If he forced her, she may yet be innocent.",,Ah, no, Sir," cried the child; ,,he only kissed her, and called her his angel, and she wept very much and leaned upon him, and they drove off very fast."-,,She's an ungrateful creature," cried my wife, who could scarcely speak for weeping, ,,to use us thus: she never had the least constraint put upon her affections. The vile strumpet has basely deserted her parents without any provocation, thus to bring your grey hairs to the grave, and I must shortly follow."

In this manner that night, the first of our real misfortunes, was spent in the bitterness of complaint, and ill-supported sallies of enthusiasm. I determined, how- ever to find out our betrayer, wherever he was, and reproach his baseness. The next morning we missed our wretched child at breakfast, where she used to give life and cheerfulness to us all. My wife, as before, attempted to ease her heart by reproaches.,,Never,' cried she,,,shall that vilest stain of our family again darken these harmless doors. I will never call her daughter more. No, let the strumpet live with her vile seducer: she may bring us to shame, but she shall never more deceive us. 66

„Wife," said I,,,do not talk thus hardly: my de.