He set the injured captive free,
Oppression wou’d subdue;
A zealous friend to liberty,
And Briton’s knew it true.
Whene’er his duty would allow,
He’d seek domestic joy;
To stern afflictions forc’d to bow,
And that all peace destroy.
His loss, we ever shall deplore,
And may his spirit rest
With virtuous souls long call’d before,
And numbered with the blest.
Yet ere his spirit fled away,
God summoned her above,
Who passed with him each happy day,
And gave him love for love.
Oh may his offspring never feel,
Those pangs he did endure;
No friendly aid the wound could heal,
Nor medicine health procure.
May our redeemer pardon gain,
For him and for us all;
Soon as we cease from earthly pain,
Or God our spirits call.
Walker, Printer, near the Duke’s Palace, Norwich.
AN ADDRESS
to the
NORFOLK YEOMAN
on the
Importation of
FOREIGN GRAIN.
BY J. PARKERSON, JUN