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XIII.—ANOTHER.

[If e'er I cast a wishful eye]

If e'er I cast a wishful eye
On the gilt chariot rolling by;
Or pined to find my equals grow
To pomp, while I remain below;

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My breast if ever envy tore
To view my country's foes in power,
To see, while merit trampled lies,
A Walpole or a Hoadly rise:—
If e'er at objects mean as those
One pang, except of pity, rose;
May I ere death so wretched be,
That even they may pity me!