With thy flowery chaplets crowned.
Thus when Philomela, drooping,
Softly seeks her silent mate,
So the bird of Juno stooping;
Melody resigns to fate.
WORMS
To the Ingenious Mr. Moore, inventor of the celebrated worm powder.
How much, egregious Moore? are we,
Deceived by shows and forms?
Whate’er we think, whate’er we see,
All human race are worms.