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EPITAPH ON DR. PARNELL.1
THIS tomb inscrib'd to gentle Parnell's name,
The transitory breath of fame below:
EPITAPH ON EDWARD PURDON.2
HERE lies poor Ned Purdon, from misery freed,
He led such a damnable life in this world,
1 From The Haunch of Venison, &c. 1776.-P. C.
2 This gentleman was educated at Trinity College, Dublin; but, having wasted his patrimony, he enlisted as a foot soldier. Growing tired of that employment, he obtained his discharge, and became a scribbler in the newspapers. [This epitaph is an imitation of the French, (La Mort du Sieur Etienne,) or of an epigram in Swift's Miscellanies, xiii. 372.-FORSTER.]
STANZAS ON WOMAN.1
WHEN lovely woman stoops to folly,
The only art her guilt to cover,
To hide her shame from every eye,
1 See Vicar of Wakefield, c. xxiv.
INTENDED TO HAVE BEEN SUNG IN THE COMEDY OF
'SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER.'1
Ан me! when shall I
Lovers are plenty, but fail to relieve me.
Not a look, not a smile shall my passion discover.
1 Sir, I send you a small production of the late Dr. Goldsmith, which has never been published, and which might perhaps have been totally lost, had I not secured it. He intended it as a song in the character of Miss Hardcastle, in his admirable comedy of She Stoops to Conquer;' but it was left out, as Mrs. Bulkley, who played the part, did not sing. He sung it himself in private companies very agreeably. The tune is a pretty Irish air, called The Humours of Balamagairy,' to which he told me he found it very difficult to adapt words; but he has succeeded very happily in these few lines. As I could sing the tune, and was fond of them, he was so good as to give me them, about a year ago, just as I was leaving London, and bidding him adieu for that season, little apprehending that it was a last farewell. I preserve this little relic, in his own handwriting, with an affectionate care. — - I am, Sir,
Your humble Servant,
WEEPING, murmuring, complaining,
Yet why impair thy bright perfection
THE wretch condemn'd with life to part,
Still, still on hope relies;
And every pang that rends the heart
Bids expectation rise.
Hope, like the glimmering taper's light,
Adorns and cheers the way;
And still, as darker grows the night,
Emits a brighter ray.
'See The Bee, No. iii. Imitated from the French of Saint Pavin, whose poems were collectively edited in 1759.—P. C. 2 [See the Oratorio of The Captivity.]
O MEMORY! thou fond deceiver,
Thou, like the world, the opprest oppressing,
1 See the Oratorio of The Captivity.