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HER
ERE lies poor Ned PURDON, from misery

freed,
Who long was a bookseller's hack;
He led such a damnable life in this world, -
I don't think he'll wish to come back.

* This gentleman was educated at Trinity College, Dublin ; but having wasted his patrimony, he enlisted as a foot foldier. Growing tired of that employment, he obtained his discharge, and became a scribbler in the newspapers. He transated Voltaire's HENRIADE.

EL E.

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GOOD people all, with one accord,

, Lament for madam Blaize, Who never wanted a good word

From those who spoke her praise.

The needy feldom 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 wond'rous winning; And never follow'd wicked ways,

Unless when she was finning.

Ai

At church, in filks and fatins new,

With hoop of monstrous fize; She never slumber'd in her pew,

But when she shut her eyes.

Her love was fought, I do aver,

By twenty beaux and more ; The king himself has follow'd her,

When she has walk'd before.

But now her wealth and finery fied,

Her hangers-on cut short all ;
The doctors found, when she was dead,

Her last disorder mortal.

Let us lament, in sorrow fore,

For Kent-street well may fay,
That had the lived a twelvemonth more,

She had not dy'd to-day.

R E T A

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Dr. Goldsmith and some of his friends occasionally dined at the St. James's Coffee-house-One day it was pro-. posed to write epitaphs on him. His country, dialect, and person, furnished subjects of witicism. He was called on for RETALIATION, and at their next meeting, produced the following poem.

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