XXXIII.

The ancient Marinere lieth here, Never to rise, although he pray'd,-- But all men, all, must have their fallings; And, like the Fear of Mr. Collins,[102] He died 'of sounds himself had made.'

Dead mad mother,--Martha Ray, Old Matthew too, and Betty Foy, Lack-a-daisy! here's a rout full; Simon Lee whose age was doubtful,[103] Simon even the Fates destroy.

Harry Gill is gone to rest, Goody Blake is food for maggot; They lie sweetly side by side, Beautiful as when they died; Never more shall she pick faggot.