Ah, Doll! all mortals must resign their breath,
And industry itself submit to Death;
The cracking crystal yields; she sinks; she dies,
Her head chopt off, from her lost shoulder flies;
Pippins! she cry’d; but death her voice confounds;
And—Pip—Pip—Pip—along the ice resounds!”
Then there is the ballad, always quoted when critics would show what John Gay could do, and which the Duchess of Queensberry (who greatly befriended him) thought charming; I give the two final verselets only:
“How can they say that nature
Has nothing made in vain;
Why then beneath the water