to you the dotard has a deal to say,

in his sly, dry, sententious, proverb way!

he bids you mind, amid your thoughtless rattle,

that the first blow is ever half the battle;

that tho' some by the skirt may try to snatch him,

yet by the foreclock is the hold to catch him;

that whether doing, suffering, or forbearing,

you may do miracles by persevering.

last, tho' not least in love, ye youthful fair,

angelic forms, high heaven's peculiar care!

to you old bald-pate smoothes his wrinkled brow,

and humbly begs you'll mind the important—now!

to crown your happiness he asks your leave,

and offers, bliss to give and to receive.

for our sincere, tho' haply weak endeavours,

with grateful pride we own your many favours;

and howsoe'er our tongues may ill reveal it,

believe our glowing bosoms truly feel it.