O weak Humanity? thyself but dust!
Since from the cradle, hourly, to the tomb,
Toil, trifle, err and grieve, frail thing! thou must.
But pleasures, passions lose their dangerous force;
And the world’s business shrinks as age descends:
O spare Adversity! my evening course;
My little part is play’d, my small importance ends.
To F. N. C. MUNDY, Esq.
ON HIS POEM
THE FALL OF NEEDWOOD.
Poet of Needwood, much my heart approves
This thy ow’d duty to his ravag’d groves,