Their graves before them, and their griefs behind,
Have each a med'cine for the rustic mind;
Nor has he care to whom his wealth shall go,
Or who shall labour with his spade and hoe;
But, as he lends the strength that yet remains,
And some dead neighbour on his bier sustains,
(One with whom oft he whirl'd the bounding flail,
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Toss'd the broad coit, or took th' inspiring ale,)
"For me," (he meditates,) "shall soon be done