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Now let us fing-Long live the king,
And Gilpio, long live he; And, when he next doth ride abroad,
May I be there to see!
SUBJOINED TO A BILL OF MORTALITT
THE PARISH OF ALL-SAINTS,
IN THE TOWN OF NORTHAMPTON.
Anno Domini 1787.
Pallida Mors æquo pulsat pede pauperum tabernas,
While thirteen moons saw smoothly run
The Nen's barge-laden wave,
Have found their home,the Grave.
Was Man, (frail always) made more frail
Than in foregoing years?
No.-These were vig'rous as their Gres.
Nor Plague nor Famine came ; This annual tribute Death requires,
And never waves his claim.
Like crowded forest-trees we stand,
And some are mark'd to fall; The axe will smite at God's command,
And soon shall smite us all.
Green as the Bay-tree, ever green
With it's new foliage on, The Gay, the Thoughtless, I have seen,
I passd—and they were gone.
Read, ye that run! the solemn truth
With which I charge my page ; A Worm is in the Bud of Youth,
And at the Root of Age.
No present Health can Health infure
Forget an hour to come ;
Can always baulk the tomb.
And, Oh! that humble as my
may not teach in vain.
prays your Clerk with all his heart, And ere he quits the pen,
for once to take his part And answer all-Amen!
Quod adest, memento
Could I, from Heav'n inspir’d, as sure presage
How each would trembling wait the mournful Sheet,
Time, then, would seem more precious than the Joys
Then, doubtless, many a Triffer on the Brink
Ah, self-deceiv'd! Could I, prophetic, fay,
Observe the dappled Foresters, how light