To A Gentleman, Who Shew'D A Fine Poem As His Own.

No more at Criticks, Ned, repine,
Who say those Numbers are not thine.
I own I was suspicious too,
And thought the Verse too good for You:
But since you say those Lines you writ,
The Proof is full, and I submit.

So, if Thaumantia should profess,
She owes Herself her glorious Dress;
And Cynthia, Empress of the Night,
Declare she shines by native Light;
(Tho' envious Criticks vent their Gall,)
I'd equally believe you all.

by Mary Barber

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