if ye
Are of the few who walk in ways upright,
(For it is joy to think there yet are some
Who to their ways do give an earnest heed),
Or with the crowd, who heed not how they go,
But walk in blindness and in corrupt ways
Unto a death which they will long to shun.
Though foolish ye may deem me thus to come,
And reason say this were a doubtful way
To seek abroad for favor, yet it is
Thy goodly favor which I come to ask;
And I am but a novice, yet will hope
Ye will not that withhold which seemeth just
To give. Fair maidens, more than all, 'tis thine
Approval which I long the most to gain.
Ambition bids me rise, aspiring, bids
Me seek from thee a word of favor, kind;
For ye are more compassionate than man,
And give your judgments in a softer way.
If ye, and if the public, see it fit
To render me a judgment good, then will
My joy be full, and I shall strive anew;
But, if ye give opposing judgment, then
I yield my pen to better hands, and seek
No more to speak, and from the quest of fame
Return to calm seclusiveness again.

King Nimaera.

A SATIRE.

INTRODUCTION.

In the following Poem, the purpose of the Author shall be to shew that
man is born to vicissitudes, and to censure the lewdness and frivolities
to which he
stoops.

To personate characters, time is represented by King Nimaera; birth,
life, and death respectively by Kalim, Weemus, and Sero; while mankind is
represented by Nimaera's subjects, and the world by his kingdom, heaven
by "The Land of Bliss," and hell by "The Pit of Terrors."

KING NIMAERA.

Honor from the many nations,
Honor from the scattered people,
Honor much had King Nimaera.
King Nimaera on his throne sat
In his ancient power and greatness,
In his modern pomp and splendor,
With adornments full about him,
With musicians ever by him,
With advisers sitting round him,
Till he needed of their wisdom;
They were counted by the thousands,
By the hundreds and the thousands.
Sage-like was this King Nimaera;
Furrowed was his brow with seasons;
Hoary were his locks and silvery,
Ran the sportive breezes through them,
Tossed them up in endless frolic.
Mutely sat the aged monarch
Mid the many lights and shadows,
Mid the many scenes and changes
Which for ever came around him,
Casting cursive glances on them,
Smiling now at some adroitness,
Frowning then at deeds of folly;
And a mystic manner had he,
Deep, and hidden, and mysterious,
That the people could no