My bedrid Muse should walk abroad no more:
Alas! 'tis more than time that I give o'er.
III.
In the recesses of a private breast
I thought to entertain your charming guest,
And never to have boasted of my feast.
IV.
10But see, my friend, when through the world you go,
My lackey-verse must shadow-like pursue,
Thin and obscure, to make a foil for you.