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Here lies poor Ned Purdon, from misery, freed,
Who long was a bookseller's hack;
I don't think he'll wish to come back.
* This gentleman was educated at Trinity College, Dublin; but having wasted his patrimony, he inlisted 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.
THE GLORY OF HER SEX,
Mrs MARY BLAIZE.
Good people all, with one accord,
Lament for Madam Blaize, Who never wanted a good word,
From those who spoke her praise.
The needy seldom pass'd her door,
And always found her kind; She freely lent to all the poor,
Who left a pledge behind.
She strove the neighbourhood to please
With manners wondrous winning; And never follow'd wicked ways,
Unless when she was sinning.
At church, in silks and satins new,
With hoop of monstrous size; She never slumber'd in her pew,
But when she shut her eyes.
Her love was sought, I do aver,
By twenty beaux and more;
But now her wealth and finery fled,
Her hangers-on cut short all; The doctors found, when she was dead,
Her last disorder mortal.
Let us lament, in sorrow sore,
For Kent-street well may say, That had she liv'd a twelvemonth more,
She had not died to-day.