WRITTEN FOR, AND GIVEN IN PRINT TO, A BEGGAR .

O MERCY ! Heaven's first attribute,
Whose care embraces man and brute,
Behold me, where I shivering stand;
Bid gentle Pity stretch her hand
To Want and Age, Disease and Pain,
That all in one sad object reign.
Still feeling bad, still fearing worse,
Existence is to me a curse;
Yet how to close this weary eye?
By my own hand I dare not die;
And Death, the friend of human woes,
Who brings the last and sound repose,
Death does at dreadful distance keep,
And leaves one wretch to wake and weep.