With curious touch examines me,

If I can feel as well as he;

And when I bend, retire and fhrink,

Says, well-'tis more than one would thinkThus life is spent, oh fie upon't!

In being touch'd, and crying, don't.

A poet

in his evening walk,

O'erheard and check'd this idle talk.

And your fine fenfe, he said, and yours,

Whatever evil it endures,

Deferves not, if fo foon offended,

Much to be pitied or commended.
Difputes though fhort, are far too long,
Where both alike are in the wrong;
Your feelings in their full amount,
Are all upon your own account.
You in your grotto-work inclos'd
Complain of being thus expos'd,
Yet nothing feel in that rough coat,
Save when the knife is at your throat,

Wherever

Wherever driv'n by wind or tide,
Exempt from every ill befide.

And as for you, my Lady Squeamish,
Who reckon ev'ry touch a blemish,

If all the plants that can be found
Embellishing the scene around,

Should droop and wither where they grow,
You would not feel at all, not you.

The nobleft minds their virtue prove
By pity, fympathy, and love,

These, these are feelings truly fine,
And prove their owner half divine.

His cenfure reach'd them as he dealt it,

And each by fhrinking fhew'd he felt it.

Το

UNWIN, I fhould but ill repay,

The kindness of a friend,

Whose worth deferves as warm a lay
As ever friendship penn'd,

Thy name omitted in a page,

That would reclaim a vicious age.

2.

An union form'd, as mine with thee,

Not rafhly or in fport,

May be as fervent in degree,

And faithful in its fort,

And may as rich in comfort prove,

As that of true fraternal love.

3.

The bud inferted in the rind,

The bud of peach or rofe,

Adorns, though diff'ring in its kind,
The stock whereon it grows

..

With flow'r as fweet or fruit as fair,

As if produc'd by nature there.

4.

Not rich, I render what I may,
I feize thy name in haste,
And place it in this first affay,

Left this fhould prove the last.

'Tis where it should be, in a plan

That holds in view the good of man.

5.

The poet's lyre, to fix his fame,

Should be the poet's heart,

Affection lights a brighter flame

Than ever blaz'd by art.

No muses on these lines attend,
I fink the poet in the friend.

FINI S.

ERRAT A,

Pag. 3, line 4, for naught read nought.

7, 1. 19, for stiffen'd x. friffens.

8, 1. 6, for In compassing r. Incompassing.

119 1. 12, for ear, r. I hear.

25, l. 10, p. 28, line last, p. 32, 1. 2, p. 48. I. 4. for

a comma place a full flop.

33, l. 12, for never r. neither.

46, 1. 8, instead of a full flop after world, place a comma

48, 1. 4, for falt'ry r. pfalt'ry.

242, 1. 4, for come x. comes.