Beneath this hugh hillock here lies a poor creature, So gentle, so easy, so harmless his nature; On earth by kind Heav’n he surely was sent, To teach erring mortals the road to content; Whatever befel him, he bore his hard fate, Nor envied the steed in his high pamper’d state; Though homely his fare was, he’d never repine; On a dock could he breakfast, on thistles could dine; No matter how coarse or unsavoury his salad, Content made the flavour suit well with his palate. Now, Reader, depart, and, as onward you pass, Reflect on the lesson you’ve heard from an Ass. * * * * * On a Henpecked Country Squire. As father Adam first was fool’d, A case that’s still too common, Here lies a man a woman rul’d, The devil rul’d the woman. * * * * * On a Potter. How frail is man—how short life’s longest day! Here lies the worthy Potter, turned to clay! Whose forming hand, and whose reforming care, Has left us full of flaws. Vile earthenware! * * * * * It was his usual custom in company when he told anything, to ask, d’ye hear? and if any one said no, John would reply, no matter, I’ve said. Death came to John And whisper’d in his ear, You must die John, D’ye hear? Quoth John to Death The news is bad. No matter, quoth Death, I’ve said. * * * * * Punning Epitaph. Cecil Clay, the counsellor of Chesterfield, caused this whimsical allusion or pun upon his name to be put upon his grave-stone;—Two cyphers of C. C. and underneath, Sum quod fui, “I am what I was.” * * * * * Oldys thus translates from Camden an epitaph upon a tippling red-nosed ballad maker, of the time of Shakespeare:— Dead drunk, here Elderton doth lie: Dead as he is, he still is dry; So of him it may well be said, Here he, but not his thirst, is laid. * * * * * On a Juggler. Death came to see thy tricks, and cut in twain Thy thread. Why did’st not make it whole again? * * * * * To a Magistrate’s Widow. Her husband died, and while she tried To live behind, could not, and died. * * * * * Epitaph on the Parson of a parish. Come let us rejoice merry boys at his fall, For egad, had he lived he’d a buried us all. * * * * * On a Baker.