I shall be but a shrimp of an author.
When love could teach a monarch to be wise, And gospel-light first dawn'd from Bullen's eyes.
To brisk notes in cadence beating, glance their many-twinkling feet.
The meanest flowret of the vale, / The simplest note that swells the gale, / The common sun, the air, and skies, / To him are opening paradise.
What female heart can gold despise? What cat 's averse to fish?
Ah, tell them they are men!