THE PRINTER’S FAREWELL 
 
 TO STRAWBERRY-HILL. 
 
 ^^DIEU ! ye Groves and Gothic Tow’rs, 
 Where I have fpent my youthful Hours, 
 Alas ! I find in vain : 
 
 Since he who could my Age protedl, 
 
 By fome myfterious, fad negledl, 
 
 Has left me to complain ! 
 
 For thirty Years of Labour part, 
 
 To meet fuch flight Reward at laft, 
 
 Has added to my Cares: 
 
 To quit the quiet Scenes of Life, 
 
 T’encounter Bus’nefs, Buftle, Strife, 
 
 Hangs heavy on my Years. 
 
 Farewell! my Printing-House, farewell!' 
 Where I no more fhall calmly dwell, 
 
 Within thy peaceful Door : 
 
 No more in Converfation free, 
 
 Enjoy my Friend and fip my Tea; 
 
 Ah ! no ; thofe Days are oer. 
 
 On thee, my Fellow-Lab’rour, dear. 
 
 My Press, I drop the filent Tear 
 Of Pity, for thy Lot; 
 
 For thou, lik^e me, by Time art worn. 
 
 Like me, too, thou art left forlorn, 
 
 Negledted and forgot! 
 
 A 
 
 ) 
 
 Oftober, 1797. 
 
 T. K. 
 

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