In clouds as dark as science metaphysic. 
So still he smok’d, and drank, and crack’d his joke;
And, had he single tarried
He might have smok’d, and still grown old in smoke: 
But RICHARD married. 
His wife was one, who carried
The cleanly virtues almost to a vice,
She was so nice:
And thrice a week, above, below,
The house was scour’d from top to toe,
And all the floors were rubb’d so bright,
You dar’d not walk upright
For fear of sliding: 
But that she took a pride in.

Of all things else REBECCA STRYPE
Could least endure a pipe. 
She rail’d upon the filthy herb tobacco,
Protested that the noisome vapour
Had spoilt the best chintz curtains and the paper
And cost her many a pound in stucco: 
And then she quoted our King James, who saith
“Tobacco is the Devil’s breath.” 
When wives will govern, husbands must obey;
For many a day
DICK mourn’d and miss’d his favourite tobacco,
And curs’d REBECCA.

At length the day approach’d, his wife must die: 
Imagine now the doleful cry
Of female friends, old aunts and cousins,
Who to the fun’ral came by dozens—­
The undertaker’s men and mutes
Stood at the gate in sable suits
With doleful looks,
Just like so many melancholy rooks. 
Now cakes and wine are handed round,
Folks sigh, and drink, and drink, and sigh,
For Grief makes people dry: 
But DICK is missing, nowhere to be found
Above, below, about
They searched the house throughout,
Each hole and secret entry,
Quite from the garret to the pantry,
In every corner, cupboard, nook and shelf,
And all concluded he had hang’d himself. 
At last they found him—­reader, guess you where—­
’Twill make you stare—­
Perch’d on REBECCA’S Coffin, at his rest,
SMOKING A PIPE OF KIRKMAN’S BEST.

TWO EPITAPHS ON A YOUNG LADY WHO LIVED
NEGLECTED AND DIED OBSCURE

(1801 or 1802)

I

Under this cold marble stone
Lie the sad remains of one
Who, when alive, by few or none
Was lov’d, as lov’d she might have been,
If she prosp’rous days had seen,
Or had thriving been, I ween. 
Only this cold funeral stone
Tells, she was beloved by one,
Who on the marble graves his moan.

II

A Heart which felt unkindness, yet complained not,
A Tongue which spake the simple Truth, and feigned not: 
A Soul as white as the pure marble skin
(The beauteous Mansion it was lodged in)
Which, unrespected, could itself respect,
On Earth was all the Portion of a Maid
Who in this common Sanctuary laid,
Sleeps unoffended by the World’s neglect.

THE APE

(1806)

An Ape is but a trivial beast,
Men count it light and vain;
But I would let them have their thoughts,
To have my Ape again.