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TO

MARTIN CHARLES BURNEY, ESQ.

FORGIVE me, Burney, if to thee these late
And hasty products of a critic pen,
Thyself no common judge of books and men,
In feeling of thy worth I dedicate.
My verse was offer'd to an older friend ;

The humbler prose has fallen to thy share:
Nor could I miss the occasion to declare,
What, spoken in thy presence, must offend-
That, set aside some few caprices wild,
Those humorous clouds that flit o'er brightest days,
In all my threadings of this worldly maze,
(And I have watch'd thee almost from a child,)
Free from self-seeking, envy, low design,
I have not found a whiter soul than thine.

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