Mrs. BINDON'S ANSWER.

Mrs. BINDON'S ANSWER.

WHEN home I return'd from the dancing last night, And elate by your praises attempted to write, I familiarly call'd on Apollo for aid, And told him how many fine things you had said; He smil'd at my folly, and gave me to know, Your wit, and not mine, by your writing you shew; And then, says the God, still to make you more vain, He hath promis'd that I shall enlighten your brain, When he knows in his heart, if he speak but his mind, That no woman alive can now boast I am kind: For since Daphne to shun me grew into a laurel, With the sex I have sworn still to keep up the quarrel. I thought it all joke, 'till by writing to you, I have prov'd his resentment, alas! but too true.