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While bending low, their eager eyes exploreThe mingled relicks of the parish poor:The bell tolls late, the moping owl flies round,Fear marks the flight and magnifies the sound;The busy priest, detain'd by weightier care,Defers his duty till the day of prayer;And waiting long, the croud retire distrest,To think a poor man's bones should lie unblest.[1]
- ↑ Some apology is due for the insertion of a circumstance by no means common: that it has been a subject for complaint in any place, is a sufficient reason for its being reckoned among the evils which may happen to the poor, and which must happen to them exclusively; nevertheless, it is just to remark, that such neglect is very rare in any part of the kingdom, and in many parts is totally unknown.
