Let then the Author claim a kinder Fate
Whose Compass little,—yet his Subject great.
Thus for our Petit Piece we crave your Favour,
And if she bear one Sketch of Nature, save her—
Let not your Wrath against the Author rise,
If he to Flight presumes to criticize.
Our humble Wren attempts to mount and sing,
Beneath the Shelter of his Eagle's Wing.
Envy's a general Vice from which we see
No Country, Sex, no Time or Station free;