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“ Thus let me hold thee to my heart,
“ And ev'ry care resign: 64 And shall we never, never part,
My life,---my all that's mine.
“ No, never, from this hour to part,
“ We'll live and love so true; “ The sigh that rends thy constant heart,
si Shall break thy Edwin's too.".
DEATH OF A MAD DOG.
GOOD people all of every sort,
, Give ear unto my song, And if
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 cloaths.
And in that town a dog was found,
As many dogs there be,
And curs of low degree.
* This, and the following poem, appeared in The Vicar of Wakefield, which was published in the year 1765.
This dog and man at first were friends ;
But when a pique began,
Went mad and bit the man.
Around from all the neighbouring streets
The wondering neighbours ran, And swore the dog had lost his wits,
To bite so good a man.
The wound it seem'd both sore and sad
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 dy'd.
WHEN lovely woman stoops to folly
And finds too late that men betray, What charm can soothe her melancholy,
What art can wash her guilt away ?
The only art her guilt to cover,
To hide her shame from ev'ry eye, To give repentance to her ļover,
And wring his bosom-is to die.