. The English dance of death, from the designs of Thomas Rowlandson;. I d better far, to save my bacon, Go back to those I have forsaken. 1 And look once more for healing knowledge, 1 To the grave Sages of the College. 1 They 11 do their best, and I wont thwart em; I then shall die,—secundum artetn;1 And not be finishd by a Dunce( Whose Trade s to kill and cure at once. 84 ENGLISH DANCE OF DEATH THE SOT The various ways which Death contrives,To put an end to human Lives,Would, were they told in prose or song,Make out a tale so very, long,That few, aye very few, would lendA kind attenti
. The English dance of death, from the designs of Thomas Rowlandson;. I d better far, to save my bacon, Go back to those I have forsaken. 1 And look once more for healing knowledge, 1 To the grave Sages of the College. 1 They 11 do their best, and I wont thwart em; I then shall die,—secundum artetn;1 And not be finishd by a Dunce( Whose Trade s to kill and cure at once. 84 ENGLISH DANCE OF DEATH THE SOT The various ways which Death contrives,To put an end to human Lives,Would, were they told in prose or song,Make out a tale so very, long,That few, aye very few, would lendA kind attention to the end:But ere they reachd the fiftieth line,Would the dull, tedious work how men live, not how they die,That stirs up thoughts, our spirits we conveneTo look upon the living Actor comes, he plays his part,With Comic or with Tragic art;But if tis orderd that he dies,We leave him to his obsequies,And the impatient eye expectsThe hero that shall enter still my subject bids me state,The whims and phantasies of ENGLISH DANCE OF DEATH 85 For laurelld Heroes and the brave,Glory oft digs a distant grave,Deep in the blood-besprinkled plain,Coverd with thousands of the slain,Whose ghastly, mangled forms inviteThe Vulture to delay his flight.—The scepterd Monarch yields his crownIn state, upon a bed of down ;While Poverty doth oft withdrawFrom life, upon a bed of die with hemp around their gullets,And some from balls—and some from bullets:But Twas the fate of poor Jack Marrow,To breathe his last on a Wheel-barrow. Jack had a jolly Butcher been,No Market had a better seen:Oft had he led the jovial train,In Leadenhall or Honey Lane;But could a courteous visage put on,Beneath suspended legs of mutton :With frock of blue, and shining face,Would welcome all with sprightly grace;And had a certain leering eyeTo tempt the passenger to buy. 86 ENGLISH DANCE OF DEATH Hed glance the knife across the steel,And boast his beef,
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