Wha sae abus'd him:
An' may a bard no crack his jest
What way they've used him? On the fashion
See him the poor man's friend in need,
The gentleman in word an' deed,
An' shall his fame an' honour bleed
By worthless skellums, railers
An' not a Muse erect her head
To cowe the blellums? daunt, blusterers
O Pope, had I thy satire's darts