234 EPITAPHS ON ANGLERS. 



To see a soul with love so wrung, 



Might have reclaim' d a tiger, O ! 

 But Sally only loll'd her tongue, 



And pull'd a face at Billy, O ! 



His heart was broke. His pain beyond 



That hour he bore no longer, O ! 

 But jump'd into the deep horse pond, 



And sank unto the bottom, O. 



EPITAPH IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD IN CUMBERLAND. 



The angler, Jack Dawson, lies 

 Under this stone ; with artful flies, 

 Trout and salmon caught in scores, 

 Whene'er he wander'd out of doors. 



The dawning beam prospect clear, 

 The clouded sky lie darken' d here ; 

 Time another Sun will raise, 

 To guide to everlasting praise." 



LINES ON THE TOMBSTONE OF WILLIAM ALLAN, 

 The well-known Gipsey Piper to the Duke of Northumberland. 



A stalwart tinker wight was he, 

 And well could mend a pot or pan, 

 An' deftly wull could thraw a flee, 

 An' neatly weave the willow wan. 



An' sweetly wild were Allan's strains, 

 An' mony a reel and jig he blew ; 

 Wi' merry lilts he charm' d the swains, 

 Wi' barbed spear the otter slew. 



