This dog and man at first were friends;

But when a pique began,

The dog, to gain his private ends,

Went mad, and bit the man.

Around from all the neighbouring streets,

The wondering neighbours ran,

And swore the dog had loft his wits,
To bite fo good a man.

The wound it feem'd both fore and fad
To every christian eye;

And while they fwore the dog was mad,
They swore the man would die.

But foon a wonder came to light,
That shew'd the rogues they ly'd,

The man recover'd of the bite,
The dog it was that dy'd.

STAN

STAN Z A S

ON

W O MA N.

WHEN lovely woman ftoops to folly,

And finds too late that men betray, What charm can foothe her melancholy, What art can wash her guilt away?

The only art her guilt to cover,

To hide her flame from every eye,

To give repentance to her lover,
And wring his bofom-is, to die.

THE

THE

TRAVELLER;

O R, A

PROSPECT OF F SOCIETY.

A

POE E M.

FIRST PRINTED IN M DCC LXV.

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REV. HENRY GOLDSMITH.

DEAR SIR,

IAM fenfible that the friendship between us can acquire no new force from the ceremonies of a Dedication; and perhaps it demands an excufe thus to prefix your name to my attempts, which you decline giving with your own. But as a part of this Poem was formerly written to you from Switzerland, the whole can now, with propriety, be only inferibed It will also throw a light upon many parts you. of it, when the reader underftands, that it is addreffed to a man, who, defpifing Fame and Fortune, has retired early to Happiness and Obfcurity, with an income of forty pounds a year.

to

I now perceive, my dear brother, the wifdom of your humble choice. You have entered upon a facred office, where the harvest is great, and the labourers are but few; while you have left the field of Ambition, where the labourers are many, and

the