Death at a cobbler's door oft made a stand,
But always found him on the mending hand;
At length Death came, in very dirty weather,
And ripp'd the soul from off the upper leather:
The cobbler lost his all,--Death gave his last,
And buried in oblivion all the past.
Respecting Robert Gray, a correspondent writes: He was a native of
Taunton, and at an early age he lost his parents, and went to London to
seek his fortune. Here, as an errand boy, he behaved so well, that his
master took him apprentice, and afterwards set him up in business, by
which he made a large fortune. In his old age he retired from trade and
returned to Taunton, where he founded a hospital. On his monument is the
following inscription:--
Taunton bore him; London bred him;
Piety train'd him; Virtue led him;
Earth enrich'd him; Heaven possess'd him;
Taunton bless'd him; London bless'd him:
This thankful town, that mindful city,
Share his piety and pity,
What he gave, and how he gave it,
Ask the poor, and you shall have it.
Gentle reader, may Heaven strike
Thy tender heart to do the like;
And now thy eyes have read his story,
Give him the praise, and God the glory.
He died at the age of 65 years, in 1635.