On Envy Poem by Christian Milne

BEFORE pale Envy who can stand,
So keenly sharp her forky tongue?
E'en harmless mirth as guilt she'll brand--
My peace of mind she oft has stung.
With wary steps I've try'd to tread,
And Prudence ever kept in view;
But wrong constructions still were laid
On all that I could say or do.
Ye Good! ye Great! I feel for you,
What must ye suffer from her sting!
When she to torture me will bow,
Will she regard or Saint or King?
May He who Virtue does befriend,
Protect me from her dang'rous power;
Drive to her dark abode the fiend,
And all His vengeance on her shower.