Page:An Essay on Translated Verse - Roscommon (1684).djvu/37

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( 17 )

Another Such had left the Nation, Thin,
In spight of all the Children He brought in.
His Pills, as thick as Hand Granadoes flew,
And where they Fell, as Certainly, they Slew.
His Name struck ev'ry where as great a Damp
As Archimedes through the Roman Camp.
With This, the Doctors Pride began to Cool,
For Smarting soundly may convince a Fool.
But now Repentance came too late, for Grace;
And meager Famine star'd him in the Face.
Fain would He to the Wives be reconcil'd,
But found no Husband left to Own a Child.
The Friends, that Got the Brats, were poyson'd too;
In such Distress what could our Vermin do?
Worry'd with Debts, and past all Hope of Bail,
Th' unpitty'd Wretch lies Rotting in a Jail.
And There, with Basket-Alms, scarce kept Alive,
Shews how Mistaken Talents ought to Thrive.

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