Thou'rt not the first night-wand'rer,
Deceive'd by treach'rous moon-light:
Nor the first starv'd Purveyor,
Pleas'd with the spacious surface
Of dunghill's outward verdure,
The greedy eye attracting:
When all within is nauseous.
In choosing a companion,
Thy choice, I find, directs thee
To one of diff'rent aspect;
For I am like old Moaid,
Deform'd in ev'ry member.
Hear then what I shall dictate;
But let thine eye not see me;
For prejudice will frustrate
The wisest, best instructions.
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