On the Death of a Republican Printer

Like Sybil's leaves, abroad he spread
His sheets, to awe the aspiring crew:
Stock-jobbers fainted while they read;
Each hidden scheme display'd to view--
Who could such doctrines spread abroad
So long, and not be clapper-claw'd!

Content with slow uncertain gains,
With heart and hand prepar'd he stood
To send his works to distant plains,
And hills beyond the Ohio-flood--
And, since he had no time to lose,
Preach'd whiggish lectures with his news.

Now death, with cold unsparing hand,
(At whose decree even Capets fall)
From life's poor glass has shook his sand,
And sent him, fainting, to the wall--
Because he gave you some sad wipes,
O Mammon! seize not thou his types.

What shall be done, in such a case?--
Shall I, because my partner fails,
Call in his bull-dogs from the chace
To loll their tongues and drop their tails--
No, faith--the title-hunting crew
No longer fly than we pursue.