Old age & death

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          AN O D E,

On the much lamented Death of the
Right Honourable WILLIAM
Mayor of the City of London.

C O M E mourn with me ye fens of
freedom,
And pray listen to my ſong,
We've loſt a pillar of the city,
l or alas! great BECKFORD'S gone;
Know grim death that king of terrors,
When his dart he does diſplay,
King's and princes to him's but trifles,
They like great Beckford muſt obey.

How his name will ſhine in ſtory,
When your children does it read,
How he ſtrove for Freedom's glory,
But alas l it was decreed,
That he with us muſt be no longer,
But to heaven above muſt go,
For our rights none could plead ſtronger,
Than great Beckford you all do know.

He was the man on all occaſions,
The Livery they well do know,
With Remonſtrance or Petitjons
When defir'd did boldly go;
The frewns of young men he'd deſeiſe,
Their jeering language he did defy,
Nor could they ſtop the man we priz'd,
Who was reſolv'd to make reply.

O how the poor are all lamenting
Becauſe their benefactor's dead,
Some hundreds was each day depending
On him for their daily bread
But now he's gone to be rewarded,
For his goodneſs to great and ſmall,
Few like him will be recorded,
Who from his word did never fall.

So don't rejoice ye foes to freedom
Becauſse a lover of It's gone.
Death is ſure pray all remember,
You muſt follow ere't be long,
But ſome their is now left behind him,
Will ſupport what he's begun
May they like Beckford ſhine in glory,
And die like him Britannia's ſon.