"Thrusting his fingers in his ears,
Like Obstinate, that perverse funny one,
In honest parable of Bunyan."
We were not aware of "Obstinate's" fun before.
An epitaph:—
"On her bones the turf lie lightly,
And her rise again be brightly!
No dark stain be found upon her—
No, there will not, on mine honour—
Answer that at least I can."
Or what is the merit of the ensuing epicedium?
[Quotes 48 lines beginning:—
There's rich Kitty Wheatley,
With footing it featly, etc.]
Mr. Lamb, in his dedication, says his motive for publishing is to benefit his publisher, by affording him an opportunity of shewing how he means to bring out works. We could have dispensed with the specimen; though it is but justice to remark on the neat manner in which the work is produced: the title-page is especially pretty.—The Literary Gazette.