University of Virginia Library

O cou'd my Numbers sweetly flow like thine,
Thou early fav'rite of the sacred Nine,
The Muse shou'd sooth the Sickness she bewails,
And Harmony give ease where Med'cine fails.

To thee, dear Jack, this Verse I send
Not as a Poet, but a Friend.
What ever Faults then you espy,
O frown not, but let Friendship's Eye.
With gentle Candour pass them by.
'Tis yours to sweep the golden Lyre
At will Heroick warmth Inspire,
Or melt the Soul to soft Desire:

The charms of Norfolk Nymphs to Paint
In Colours which make Kneller's faint;
Or else upon a nobler String
To Sing of Walpole and the King.
I meddle not with such high Matters,
But humbly leave them to my Betters,
To you, or D---s to rehearse,
(True Offspring of the God of Verse,)
But when with Spleen oppress'd sometimes
Divert my self with tinkling Rhimes.
Or tir'd with poring over Greek. [OMITTED]
Or turning musty Commentators,
(The dullest of all mortal Creatures)
Casaubon, Harpocrat, Valesius,
Meursius, Hartungus, and Salmasius,
With fifty more, Sir, I cou'd tell ye,
As Suidas, Pollux, and Drexeli
Thus in a low prosaic Stile
The Evenings tedious Hours beguile,
In Verse Sermoni propriore
My own Condition lay before ye,
And humbly, Sir, request to know
By the next Post how 'tis with you.
If baffling all the Doctor's Pains
Febris still rages in thy Veins,
Or does no more the Fight renew
Defeated by the Bark Peru.
If spightful Tumours yet Disgrace
The Honours of thy ample Face,
Or shining in a narrower Sphere
Its native Charms again appear:
If jocund Laughter shake thy Side
—With twenty others things beside.
As—what new product of thy Brain
From late purgations shall we gain,
How have Emeticks help'd Invention,
What new made Subjects to Descant on?