 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
303
EPITAPH
For the Tomb of a MISER, who bilk'd his Relations for the Fame of building an Hospital.
Stop, Passenger—but shed no Tear—A Miser's Corps is buried here,
Who bilk'd his Friends, and pinch'd himself,
To heap for Strangers Sums of Pelf.
He hop'd a Piety, so odd,
Wou'd recommend his Soul to God,
And make the Name, that stunk alive,
For ever savoury survive.
To say he's damn'd were not so fit:
But who thinks not the Biter bit?
| Poems on Several Occasions | |