And in that town a dog was found, Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound, This dog and man at first were friends; Around from all the neighb'ring streets The wound it seem'd both sore and sad And while they swore the dog was mad; But soon a wonder came to light, The dog it was that died. AN ELEGY ON THE GLORY OF HER SEX, MRS. MARY BLAIZE. Good people all, with one accord, The needy seldom pass'd her door, She strove the neighbourhood to please, With manners wondrous winning; And never follow'd wicked waysUnless when she was sinning.. At church, in silks and satins new, Her love was sought, I do aver, But now her wealth and fin'ry fled, Let us lament in sorrow sore, That had she liv'd a twelvemonth more,-- SURE 'twas by Providence design'd, THE GIFT. TO IRIS, In Bow-street, Covent Garden. SAY, cruel Iris, pretty rake, My heart, a victim to thine eyes, Say, would the angry fair one prize A bill, a jewel, watch, or toy, |