English poem
Epitaph
You see at last poor Wade is dead, Who once had mighty Heaps ef Gold; Nor is he worth ten Pound of Lead, If he were to the Surg'ons sold; But then theres Flear's under Ground, That soon will get a welcome Guest; And would not take two hundred Pounds, To miss a griping Miser's Feast.
More by Sir Jones Henry
- ARDELIA, A POEM. Address'd to a very agreeable young Lady
- BATH, a POEM; inscrib'd to Dr. NUGENT, Physician at Bath
- Canto, I
- Clifton
- Epitaph
- LESBIA and her Sparrow: Or Cupid turn'd Fowler
- LINES inscrib'd to the Right Honourable the Lord NEWPORT, Lord High Chancellor of Ireland
- Lines to Lord Chief Justice SINGLETON