Miscellanies, in Verse and Prose | ||
To Veneroni's Dictionary,
Thrown aside by a Lady, after she had borrowed it of me.
With pity thy reverse of fate I see,Once happy Book, but now disgrac'd, like me:
Thy lot was lately what a King might prize,
To kiss the Charmer's hands, and fix her eyes.
From wretched me it drew an envious tear;
So distant still was I, and Thou so near.
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Or art thou punish'd for thy owner's fault?
A fault the subject of his endless moan,
By Her unpardon'd, and to Him unknown.
Adieu, vain Book; thy store of words is vain,
Tho' two fair Languages thy leaves contain;
Adieu, vain Book; for how can words declare
An Angel's merit, or a Fiend's despair?
Miscellanies, in Verse and Prose | ||