Pestilence[75]

Hot, dry winds forever blowing, Dead men to the grave-yards going: Constant hearses, Funeral verses; Oh! what plagues--there is no knowing!

Priests retreating from their pulpits!-- Some in hot, and some in cold fits In bad temper, Off they scamper, Leaving us--unhappy culprits!

Doctors raving and disputing, Death's pale army still recruiting-- What a pother One with t'other! Some a-writing, some a-shooting.

Nature's poisons here collected, Water, earth, and air infected-- O, what pity, Such a City, Was in such a place erected!

Published in the 1795 edition. In the index of the 1809 edition, the text of which I have used, it bears the title "Pestilence: written during the Prevalence of a yellow fever." It refers to the well-known epidemic in Philadelphia during the late summer and early autumn of 1793.