The above is an exact reprint of the very scarce first edition of this parody, which was brought out by the same publisher, and within two years, of Gray’s “Elegy.” It was published in quarto size, and in type and style closely resembled the original “Elegy.” “An Evening Contemplation in a College” was written by the Rev. John Duncombe, M.A., of Corpus College, Cambridge, who was born in 1730 and died on January 19, 1786. He was the author of several other poems and parodies, neither of which obtained the success of the above, which has been frequently reprinted. It appears at the end of one Dublin edition of Gray’s Poems, in 12mo, 1768, and of another printed by William Sleater in 1775. A pirated quarto edition was published in London by J. Wheble in 1776, and attributed to “An Oxonian,” it was also included in the collection entitled _The Oxford Sausage_, and in the second volume of _The Repository_, London, 1777. All these reprints contain numerous verbal alterations from the original. ――――:o:―――― The next parody, which bears no date, was probably published only a little later than the above, as it was issued in quarto in the same general style, and by the same firm. THE NUNNERY. AN ELEGY. In imitation of the ELEGY IN A CHURCH-YARD. _Son pittore anche io._――CORREGIO. ―――― LONDON: Printed for R. and J. DODSLEY, at Tully’s-Head, Pall-Mall. [_Price Sixpence._] THE NUNNERY. Retirement’s Hour proclaims the tolling Bell, Each sacred Virgin follows its Decree; With meek submission seeks her lonely Cell, And leaves the grate to Solitude and me. Now shows the sinking sun a fainter glare And Silence thro’ the Convent reigns confest, Save where some pale-ey’d Novice (wrap’d in Pray’r) Heaves a deep groan, and smites her guiltless breast. Save where in artless melancholy Strains Some _Eloisa_ whom soft Passion moves, Absorpt in Sorrow to the night complains; For ever bar’d the _Abelard_ she loves. Within those ancient walls by moss o’erspread, Where the relenting sinner learns to weep; Each in her narrow Bed till Mid-night laid, The gentle Daughters of Devotion sleep. No stings of Conscience goad their easy Breast, No unrepented Crimes their Slumbers fright, No mournful Dreams invade their peaceful Rest Nor shrouded Spectres stalk afore their sight! Th’ endearing scenes of Life They all forego Ev’n Hymen’s Torch for Them must never blaze, The Husband’s fond Embrace They ne’er shall know, Nor view their Image in their Children’s Face.