Quæ Genus.

"I do profess I can engage
With noble, simple, and with sage.
Though young as yet, I've been so hurl'd
About what you would call the world,
That well I know it, yet 'tis true,
I can be very honest too.
—Of the good name which you demand,
I tell you—I've not one at hand.
Of friends, I once had ample store,
But those fair, prosp'rous days are o'er,
And I must mourn it to my cost
That friends are dead, and gone, and lost;
But if to conscience 'tis referr'd,
My conscience says, Sir, take his word.
—Of character, though I have none,
Perhaps, Sir, I can purchase one:
I, from a corner of my coat,
May just pluck out a pretty note;
Which, with a view to gain an end,
Might, in an urgent want, befriend.
Now, if to place me, you contrive,
Where I may have a chance to thrive;
I'll give this note, if I'm alive.
}
It may be rather worth your while;
Perhaps it may awake a smile."

Sharpsight appear'd to look astray,

But still he took a glance that way.

"I'm not," he said, "to be beguil'd;"

Though when he glanc'd that way, he smil'd,

And, turning to the other side,

In a calm, soften'd tone replied.