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　　EPICEDIUM

　　GOING OR GONE

　　(1827)

　　I

　　Fine merry franions,

　　Wanton companions,

　　My days are ev'n banyans

　　With thinking upon ye;

　　How Death, that last stinger,

　　Finis-writer, end-bringer,

　　Has laid his chill finger,

　　Or is laying on ye.

　　II

　　There's rich Kitty Wheatley,

　　With footing it featly

　　That took me completely,

　　She sleeps in the Kirk House;

　　And poor Polly Perkin,

　　Whose Dad was still firking

　　The jolly ale firkin,

　　She's gone to the Work-house;

　　III

　　Fine Gard'ner, Ben Carter

　　(In ten counties no smarter)

　　Has ta'en his departure

　　For Proserpine's orchards;

　　And Lily, postillion,

　　With cheeks of vermilion,

　　Is one of a million

　　That fill up the church-yards;

　　IV

　　And, lusty as Dido,

　　Fat Clemitson's widow

　　Flits now a small shadow

　　By Stygian hid ford;

　　And good Master Clapton

　　Has thirty years nap't on

　　The ground he last hap't on,

　　Intomb'd by fair Widford;

　　V

　　And gallant Tom Dockwra,

　　Of nature's finest crockery,

　　Now but thin air and mockery,

　　Lurks by Avernus,

　　Whose honest grasp of hand

　　Still, while his life did stand,

　　At friend's or foe's command,

　　Almost did burn us.

　　VI

　　Roger de Coverley

　　Not more good man than he;

　　Yet has he equally

　　Push'd for Cocytus,

　　With drivelling Worral,

　　And wicked old Dorrell,

　　'Gainst whom I've a quarrel,

　　Whose end might affright us!—

　　VII

　　Kindly hearts have I known;

　　Kindly hearts, they are flown;

　　Here and there if but one

　　Linger yet uneffaced,

　　Imbecile tottering elves,

　　Soon to be wreck'd on shelves,

　　These scarce are half themselves,

　　With age and care crazed.

　　VIII

　　But this day Fanny Hutton

　　Her last dress has put on;

　　Her fine lessons forgotten,

　　She died, as the dunce died:

　　And prim Betsy Chambers,

　　Decay'd in her members,

　　No longer remembers

　　Things, as she once did;

　　IX

　　And prudent Miss Wither

　　Not in jest now doth wither,

　　And soon must go—whither

　　Nor I well, nor you know;

　　And flaunting Miss Waller,

　　That soon must befal her,

　　Whence none can recal her,

　　Though proud once as Juno! 注释标题 Here came, in Album Verses, 1830, “The Wife's Trial,” for which see page 273, where it is placed with Lamb's other plays. The Works of Charles and Mary Lamb — Volume 4