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If one soft plea the public favour gain,
And from disgrace protect the vilest strain,
Oh say, what honours may that Bard require,
In whose sad lot all pleas at once conspire;
Who, young, enamour'd, poor, and almost dead,
Writes for his fame, his mistress, and his bread.
And from disgrace protect the vilest strain,
Oh say, what honours may that Bard require,
In whose sad lot all pleas at once conspire;
Who, young, enamour'd, poor, and almost dead,
Writes for his fame, his mistress, and his bread.
Man feels for man by partnership of woe,
For human suff'rings, human tears will flow.
Of all distresses, none more wounds the heart,
Than his, who plies in vain the minstrel's art.
Better to pine in want, or writhe in pain,
Than pour, on listless ears, th' unheeded strain.
Yet, for his faults, how strong soe'er the plea,
Or youth, or love, or death, or penury,
For human suff'rings, human tears will flow.
Of all distresses, none more wounds the heart,
Than his, who plies in vain the minstrel's art.
Better to pine in want, or writhe in pain,
Than pour, on listless ears, th' unheeded strain.
Yet, for his faults, how strong soe'er the plea,
Or youth, or love, or death, or penury,
