B. Franklin.
PAPER
Some wit of old—such wits of old there were—
Whose hints show’d meaning, whose allusions care,
By one brave stroke to mark all human kind,
Call’d clear blank paper every infant mind;
Where still, as opening sense her dictates wrote,
Fair virtue put a seal, or vice a blot.
The thought was happy, pertinent, and true;
Methinks a genius might the plan pursue.