SONG.

1 From the man whom I love though my heart I disguise, I will freely describe the wretch I despise; And if he has sense but to balance a straw, He will sure take the hint from the picture I draw.

2 A wit without sense, without fancy a beau, Like a parrot he chatters, and struts like a crow; A peacock in pride, in grimace a baboon, In courage a hind, in conceit a Gascon.

3 As a vulture rapacious, in falsehood a fox, Inconstant as waves, and unfeeling as rocks; As a tiger ferocious, perverse as a hog, In mischief an ape, and in fawning a dog.

4 In a word, to sum up all his talents together, His heart is of lead, and his brain is of feather; Yet, if he has sense but to balance a straw, He will sure take the hint from the picture I draw.