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A pious youth approaching where
His stepdame's body lay,
Officious crown'd her statue there
With flow'rets fresh and gay.


Nor thought his father's wife, when dead,
Her malice could retain;
The statue thunder'd on his head
And fix'd him to the plain.


Ye foster-sons avoid this doom
Nor hang a flow'ry wreath
Around an envious stepdame's tomb,
Lest ye too sink in death.