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EPITAPH. j

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* THE OLD MUD.

For the North fVales Gazette,

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For the North fVales Gazette, THE POOR OLD MAN's PETITION. VII; Cambrian Bards, and Gentry, hear my tale, A talc of woe I offer to your ears4 And let my humble muse at length prevail, To ease my sufferings, and dry up my tears. Pity the sorrows a poor old man., Whom, now, decrepitude has rendered weak; Whose sands from out his hour-glass nearly ran, Have urfd him thus, hi3 woeful plaiuis to make. «' A lonely wretched man, In pain I go, u None want my relieve my woe; to Soon win my bones henea f h the tuff be laid, 0, And men forget the wretch they won dnot aid. â¢4 ? once was chief of all the rustic trade, «⢠INly steady hand the straightest furrow made, H Full manya prize I won, and still ant proud, To think, the triumphs of my youth allow'd. »l A transient pleasure sparkles in my eye, « I bearâand smilc-then thinkâand heave a vieb # « For now I journey to my grave in pain, It The rich disdain meânay the poor disdain. â¢Â« Alternate masters now their slave command, H To urge the efforts of my feeble hand And when my age attempts the task in vain, with ruthless tauntsâof lazy poor, complain. In retrospective views of former dys, When health and strength, invigorate by youth; "When ev'ry labour was perforni'd with ease, When ev'ry friend and neighbour spoke the truth I J say, when recollection brings to mind, The comforts I eujoy'd in homely cot; Biest with an offspring, and a wife most kind, Oh! happy daysâhow blissful then my lot. I then, with swainsâmy daily labour done, With rural games play'd down the setting sun, I ttruek with matchless force the setting ball, Or made the pond'rous quoit obliquely fall u Or like huge Ajax, terrible and strong, Engag'd soiueartful stripling of the throng u"Who fell beneath me, foil'd, while far around, Hoarse triumphs rose, and made the rocks resound. '1 I then was chief in all their playful sport, And like a Monarch, rul'd their little court, at The pliant bow I forrn'd-the flying hill- The bat-t Ie wlcket-were my lahours all. J, in your service spent my youthful strength, To yon, devoted days and years of care 0 let me not bewailâtind say at length, Yon've doom'd meâparish pittance but to share. ye rich, who wealth possess, bestow your aid, In augmenratioDof this niggsrd plan The (,0" will recompence-tt ant afraid. Y'i'T t<f-untyâto a woro OUt poor O'd Van. jyty* Glv>&. Rvhicvs,

CHRONOLOGICAL SKFTCft I

,':I----""""':' To the)'''EdiIIJrs…

To the Editors of the North…

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To the Editors of the North…

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