Ierne's now our royal Care:
We lately fix'd our Vice--roy there.
How near was she to be undone,
How well these Laymen love to gibe,
And throw their Jests on Levi's Tribe!
Must One be toil'd to D
Say, my Hortensia, in this silent Hour,
When the pale Queen of Night exerts her Pow'r,
'Tis Time to conclude; for I make it a Rule,
To leave off all Writing, when Con. comes from School.
Once Jupiter, from out the Skies,
Beheld a thousand Temples rise;
The Goddess Fortune all invok'd,
Not Persia's Monarch could, unmov'd, survey
Those num'rous Hosts, which Time must sweep away:
I beg your Scholar you'll excuse,
Who dares no more debase the Muse.
My Mother says, If e'er she h
All--bounteous Heav'n, Castalio cries,
With bended Knees, and lifted Eyes,
When shall I have the P
My Lord of Killala, I find to my Sorrow,
I can't have the Honour I hop'd for, Tomorrow.
But why I'
Ye heedless Fair, who pass the live--long Day,
In Dress and Scandal, Gallantry and Play;
Your late kind Gift let me restore;
For I must never wear it more.
My Mother cries, ``What's here
With Joy your Summons we obey,
And come to celebrate this Day.
Yet I, alas! despair to please;
Remote from Strife, from urban Throngs, and Noise.
Here dwells my Soul amidst domestic Joys:
Since Milo rallies sacred Writ,
To win the Title of a Wit;
'Tis pity but he shou'd obtain it,
Dear Jack, whilst you thro' Flanders roam,
Can you forget your Friends at Home?
Say, will your Tut
So little giv'n at Chapel Door!--
This People doubtless must be poor:
So much at Gaming thrown awa
Dear Rose, as I lately was writing some Verse,
Which I next Day intended in School to rehearse,
Why are we Scholars plagu'd to write,
On Days devoted to Delight?
In Honour of the King, I'd play
Contented in my humble State,
I look with Pity on the Great;
Who only Birth, or Wealth, respect,
As in some wealthy, trading Town,
Where Riches raise to fure Renown,
The Man, with ample Sums in S
Ye heedless Fair, who trifle Life away,
Let either Brownlow set your Notions right:
Be, like the D
This mourning Mother can with Ease explore
The Arts of Latium, and the Grecian Store:
Was early le
The Britons, in their Nature shy,
View Strangers with a distant Eye:
We think them partial and sev
When I heard you were landed, I flew to the Nine,
Intreating their Aid to invite you to dine.
A mother, who vast Pleasure finds
In modelling her Childrens Minds;
With whom, in exquisite Deligh
Children are snatch'd away sometimes,
To punish Parents for their Crimes.
Thy Mother's Merit was s
Written when the Author was sick.
Somnus, pow'rful Deity,
Mortals owe their Bliss to thee.
Go, Jealousy, Tormentress dire;
On Lovers only seize:
In Love, like Winds, you fan the Fire,