Reader, your soul upraise to see...

Reader, your soul upraise to see,

In yon fair cut designed by me,

The pauper by the highwayside

Vainly soliciting from pride.

Mark how the Beau with easy air

Contemns the anxious rustic's prayer,

And, casting a disdainful eye,

Goes gaily gallivanting by.

He from the poor averts his head...

He will regret it when he's dead.