My Lord of Killala, I find to my… I can’t have the Honour I hop’d f… But why I’m so wretched, my Frien… For I never can write my Vexation… Disappointments are sent to poor…

When Ruin threaten’d me of late, With all its ghastly Train; Some Pow’r, in Pity to my Fate, Sent bountiful Germain, Her Soul is mov’d with my Distres…

Children are snatch’d away sometim… To punish Parents for their Crime… Thy Mother’s Merit was so great, Heav’n hasten’d thy untimely Fate… To make her Character complete.

The Britons, in their Nature shy, View Strangers with a distant Eye… We think them partial and severe; And judge their Manners by their… Are undeceiv’d by Time alone;

Since Phoebus makes your Verse di… Since the God glows in ev’ry Line… Why should you think, but I, with… Might write my native, artless La… My Mother told me many a Time,

I little thought that honest Dick Would slight me so, when I was si… Is he a Friend, who only stays, Whilst Health and Pleasure gild o… Flies, when Disease our Temper so…

Dear Jack, whilst you thro’ Fland… Can you forget your Friends at Ho… Say, will your Tutors give you Ti… To write to Hereticks in Rhyme? A Name they brand us with, dear Y…

Were Princes grac’d with Souls li… Princes had still been deem’d divi… Such Merit as we find in thee, First introduc’d Idolatry; When an excelling Form and Mind,

Remote from Strife, from urban Th… Here dwells my Soul amidst domest… No ratling Coaches serious Though… Nor busy prating Fools my Peace d… Wrapt up in all the Sweets of rur…

The Favours of Fortune I once ho… And often invok’d her, but ever in… She despis’d my Addresses, which… I flew to the Muses, in Hopes of… Ah Wretch that I was! I might ve…

Say, my Hortensia, in this silent… When the pale Queen of Night exer… What Guardian—Angels on thy Slum… To paint the Glories of thy futur… To shew what Mansions, in the Rea…

WELL you Sincerity display, A virtue wond’rous rare! Nor value, tho’ the world should s… You’re rude, so you’re sincere. To be sincere, then, give me leave…

I grieve to see you waste your Ti… And turn your Thoughts so much to… Be wise—your useless Views resign… And fly the fair, delusive Nine. I know, they try their wonted Art…

Contented in my humble State, I look with Pity on the Great; Who only Birth, or Wealth, respec… And treat true Merit with neglect… O Pow’r supreme! let me implore

Start not, nor tremble at the Sig… It comes not written from the Rea… ’Tis true, you see, your once—lov’… Thence may conclude from Heav’n s… Conscious perhaps of your celestia…