On the Tomb of a Man Famed for Deeds of Charity.
While sojourning on earth, he filled up the measure
Of Time that to mortals is given
So well, that he's gone to inherit the treasure
That in life he exported to heaven,
In Ripon Churchyard.
Bold infidelity turn pale and die,
Beneath this stone six infants' ashes lie,
Say, are they lost or saved?
If death's by sin, they sin because they're here;
If heaven's by works, in heaven they can't appear.
Reason, ah, how depraved!
But search the Scripture's sacred page
the knot's untyed,
They died, for Adam sinned; they live,
for Jesus died.
On a Miser.
Here lies one who for medicines would not give
A little gold, and so his life he lost.
I fancy now he'd wish again to live,
Could he but know how much his funeral cost.
On a Violent Scold.
My spouse and I full many a year
Lived man and wife together:
I could no longer keep her here.
She's gone—the Lord knows whither.
Of tongue she was exceeding free,
I purpose not to flatter;
Of all the wives I e'er did see,
None sure like her could chatter,
