Classic Poem

No more, kind Woodfall, shall Louisa send,
Her fictious scrawl to gain a poet's fame;
Know thou her once protector, guardian friend,
The vile impostor now assumes a name.

A name that Conscience bids her blush to own,
Since she, sad jade, could even thee perplex;
But now the harlot abdicates her throne,
And brimstone like, renounces e'en her sex.

Yes, tender name, a fond and last adieu,
Receive my thanks — that oft admirers won;
Form, grace , and beauty now belong to you,
For set for ever is my borrow'd sun.

And now since transmigration bears a truth,
A gen'ral pardon doth the culprit ask;
Of once adorers , whether age or youth ,
For having dar'd to wear the female mask.

But most to you these lines are chiefly pen'd,
Who've long been chronicl'd in daily print;
Who oft has prov'd the drama's warmest friend,
By critiques coin'd from sense and reason's mint.

Authors and candidates alike may boast,
Of signal service from thy able pen ,
And many a fair one give the grateful toast,
" Impartial Woodfall , and most kind of men. "

While many an orator has equal cause
To place thy talents in the fairest light;
When friends have crown'd his speeches with applause,
That doz'd the members the preceding night.

And proud is he who has his speech rehears'd,
In nervous language by thy mem'ry's strength;
Who well in eloquence and figure vers'd,
Displays sound rhetoric in pleasing length.

Tho' fain the muse would pay a tribute due,
To mem'ry such as Woodfall's does require;
She paints the tribute far too faint for view,
And leaves the world — to wonder and admire .