25007 1917

T

HERE fiv'd, as authors tell, in days of yore, A widow fomewhat old, and very poor: Deep in a cell her cottage lonely stood, Well thatch'd, and under covert of a wood.

This dowager, on whom my tale I found,
Since laft fhe laid her husband in the ground,
A fimple fober life in patience led,

And had but just enough to buy her bread:
But housewifing the little heav'n had lent,
She duly paid a groat for quarter rent;
And pinch'd her belly with her daughter too,
To bring the year about with much ado.