Satire recoils whenever charg'd too high;
Round your own fame the fatal splinters fly.
As the soft plume gives swiftness to the dart,
Good breeding sends the satire to the heart.
Painters and surgeons may the structure scan;
Genius and morals be with you the man:
Defaults in those alone should give offence!
Who strikes the person, pleads his innocence.
My narrow minded satire can't extend
To Codrus' form; I'm not so much his friend: