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Occasional verse, moral and sacred

Published for the instruction and amusement of the Candidly Serious and Religious [by Edward Perronet]

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AN EPITAPH.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


158

AN EPITAPH.

Composed on Waking.

I

I who was late what you are now,
And drew the vital air,
Am here entomb'd beneath this brow,
A prisoner, and an Heir.

II

“Come you along (said Death) with me,
I'm come that you may go.”
“I will not go (I cried) with thee,
Who nothing hast to shew.”

III

“Ha'n't I!” said he, and shewed his dart,
And with that took his aim;
Levell'd his weapon at my heart,
To quench its vital flame.

III

I cried aloud; when Mercy came,
And (ere he stopp'd my breath)
Gave me, by Faith, a glimpse of him,
Whose dart had conquer'd Death!