Pardon, ye Fair, the Poet and his Muse,
And what ye can't approve, at least excuse;
Far be from him the iron lash of Wit,
20
The jokes of Humour, and the sneers that hit;
He speaks of Freedom, and he speaks to you,
His Verse is simple, but his Subject new;
And novelty, ye Fair, beyond a doubt,
Is philosophic truth, the World throughout.
Hard is the lot of Woman, so have sung