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Now let us fing-Long live the king,
And Gilpin, long live he;
May I be there to see!
SUBJOINED TO A BILL OF MORTALITT
Anno Domini 1787. '
Pallida Mors æquo pulsat pede pauperum tabernas,
While thirteen moons faw smoothly run
The Nen's barge-laden wave,
Have found their home,--the Grave.
Was Man, (frail always) made more frail
Than in foregoing years?
No.-These were vig'rous as their fres.
Nor Plague nor Famiae came ; This annual tribute Death requires,
And never waves his claim.
Read, ye that run! the solemn truth
With which I charge my page ; A Worm is in the Bud of Youth,
And at the Root of Age.
No present Health can Health infure
Forget an hour to come ;
Can always baulk the tomb.
So prays your Clerk with all his heart,
And ere he quits the pen,
And answer all-Amen!
Quod adest, memento