re I lie,

    t  to tend my old blind masters steps,

    ed,

    staff, h which

    h in fear

    Over t ,

    Safe in t of my friendly string,

    A firm foot forill, till he had reachd

    on some stone, nigide

    Of passers by in t confluence flowd:

    to s

    From morn to eve ate he waild.

    Nor o all in vain: some here,

    their pennies gave.

    I meantime at  obsequious slept;

    Not all-asleep in sleep,   and ear

    Prickd up at  motion; to receive

    At omary crums,

    And common portion in  of scraps;

    Or

    itedious beggary.

    this my way of life,

    till age and sloook,

    And severd from my sigers side.

    But lest the grace of so good deeds should die,

    tract of years in mute oblivion lost,

    tomb of turf h Irus reared,

    C of no ungrudging hand,

    And  verse inscribed it, to attest,

    In long and lasting union to attest,

    tues of the Beggar and his Dog.

    t a  of to glide s of London, y upon a macacle to natives, to foreigners, and to c make, o torm and sunsural curiosity, a speculation to tific, a prodigy to t are at ty man brougo y, vieoutness, and y , of t. Fe must iced , s of 1780, and eus, and to suck in fres; as good as an Elgin marble. ture,  lost, but only retired into s, and remendous voice ting do eed t arted at entous appearance. o  but  stature to  t of a Centaur, from  ion ing; and  yet a jolly countenance upon ty-and-trad