But if, which Pow'rs above prevent,
That iron-hearted Carl, Want,
Attended, in his grim advances,
By sad mistakes, and black mischances,
While hopes, and joys, and pleasures fly him;
Make you as poor a dog as I am,
Your humble servant then no more;
For who would humbly serve the Poor?
But by a poor man's hopes in Heav'n!
While recollection's pow'r is giv'n,
If, in the vale of humble life,
The victim sad of Fortune's strife,
I, through the tender-gushing tear,
Should recognise my Master dear,
If friendless, low, we meet together,
Then, Sir, your hand — my FRIEND and BROTHER.