An
EPIGRAM
.
By
the
Same
.
I
Dropt
a
thing
in
verse
,
without
a
name
;
I
felt
no
censure
,
and
I
gain'd
no
fame
:
The
public
saw
the
bastard
in
the
cradle
,
But
ne'er
enquir'd
;
so
left
it
to
the
beadle
.
A
certain
nobleman
takes
up
the
child
,
The
real
father
lay
perdue
,
and
smil'd
.
The
public
now
enlarges
every
grace
,
What
shining
eyes
it
has
!
how
fair
a
face
!
Of
parts
what
symmetry
!
what
strength
divine
!
The
noble
brat
is
sure
of
Pelops'
line
.