Unused to crowds, the parson quakes for fear,
And wonders how the devil he durst come there;
Wanting three talents needful for the place,
Some beard, some learning, and some little grace.
}
Nor is the puny poet void of care; }
For authors, such as our new authors are, }
Have not much learning, nor much wit to spare; }
And as for grace, to tell the truth, there's scarce one,
But has as little as the very parson: