The heart was soften'd, but she miss'd the hand.
She wrote a novel, and Sir Denys said,
The dedication was the best he read;
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But Edgeworths, Smiths, and Radcliffes so engross'd
The public ear, that all her pains were lost.
To keep a toy-shop was attempt the last,
There too she fail'd, and schemes and hopes were past.
Now friendless, sick and old, and wanting bread,
The first-born tears of fallen pride were shed—