Poems on Several Occasions :: :: University of Virginia Library

Poems on Several Occasions

By Henry Jones

Jones, Henry (1721-1770)

On his Excellency the Earl of Chesterfield's Arrival in Ireland.

To the Right Honourable the Countess of Chesterfield, occasioned by her procureing a Pardon for two Soldiers condemned for Desertion.

On the SPRING.

On the Lying-in Hospital in Dublin.

Lines to Lord Chief Justice Singleton.

On Mr. POPE's Death.

On a Picture of Our Saviour's Examination before Caiaphas; sent to his Grace Dr. George Stone, Lord Primate of Ireland.

To Doctor GREEN.

Philosophy, a POEM, addressed to the Ladies who attended Mr. Booth's Lectures in Dublin.

On the vain Pursuits and imperfect Enjoyments of Human Life.

To the Hon. Mr. Baron Mountney.

The Character of a true Patriot, and a good Man.

On his Royal Highness the Duke of Cumberland's Success at the Hague.

To a Young Gentleman.

RATH-FARNHAM, a Poem,

To a FRIEND who had writ Verses to Mr. POPE, in the Person of Apollo, occasioned by hearing that Poet abus'd.

To Thomas Adderly, Esq

VERSES inscrib'd to the Revd. Dr. Delany.

An ESSAY on the Weakness of Human Knowledge, and the Uncertainty of mortal Life.

To the Hon. Mrs. CONOLLY.

To the Reverend Dr. Mann, occasioned by the Author's asking him for a Subject to write on, and his saying he could think of none.

To a Person of fine Parts, but whimsical Humours, of a cruel Nature, and bad Morals.

To a young Lady on her Grotto.

A PROLOGUE for the Benefit of Old Husband's the Player.

On the King's Birth-day.

To the Reverend Dr. Mann, occasioned by the Death of the Revd. Mr. Holt, Junior Fellow of T. C. D.

On seeing Mr. Barry in the Character of Hamlet.

On the Death of a favourite Nightingale.

On a fine Crop of Peas being spoil'd by a Storm.

Lesbia and her Sparrow: Or Cupid turn'd Fowler.

To a young Lady on her performing upon the Harpsichord.

To CLOE.

To Lord Tyrawly, on his sending me to Lord Chesterfield, when I durst not knock at the Door.

To a young Lady, lately married, who had fine Eyes, but a frail Character.

On his Excellency the Earl of Chesterfield's Recovery from a dangerous Fever.

On taking a Lady's Picture in Church, whilst she sung the Psalm.

To Cleon, on his Arrival at his Villa.

TEMPE, a Poem, inscrib'd to Solitude.

To a FRIEND on his Marriage.

LINES inscrib'd to the Right Honourable the Lord Newport, Lord High Chancellor of Ireland.

BATH, a Poem; inscrib'd to Dr. Nugent, Physician at Bath.

To a FRIEND.

On seeing a Picture of his Royal Highness the Prince of Wales, which was presented to the University of Dublin.

ARDELIA, A POEM.

To a young LADY, who had made an Epigram on Time, but refus'd to give a Copy.

On a Young LADY Dancing,

MYRTILLA.

On the Hospital for Lying-in-Women, erected in Dublin. Inscrib'd to the Founders.

On taking PORTO-BELLO by Storm. Inscrib'd to the Vernon Club in Drogheda.

SONG.

On seeing Mrs. Woffington appear in several Characters.

A Farewel to Apollo and the Muses, at Glassnevin.

On viewing the Monument of the Right Honourable William Conolly, Esq

To a FRIEND.

On a public Collection made for the distress'd Remains of the Inniskillen and Derry Men. Inscrib'd to the Right Honourable the Lord Tullamore.

On his Excellency the Earl of Chesterfield's resigning the Government of Ireland.

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On a fine Crop of Peas being spoil'd by a Storm.

When Morrice views his prostrate Peas,
By raging Whirlwinds spread,
He wrings his Hands, and in amaze
He sadly shakes his Head.

Is this the Fruit of my fond Toil,
My Joy, my Pride, my Chear!
Shall one tempestuous Hour thus spoil
The Labours of a Year!

Oh! what avails, that Day by Day
I nurs'd the thriving Crop,
And settl'd with my Foot the Clay,
And rear'd the social Prop!

Ambition's Pride had spur'd me on
All Gard'ners to excell;
I often call'd them one by one,
And boastingly would tell,

How I prepar'd the furrow'd Ground,
And how the Grain did sow,
Then challeng'd all the Country round
For such an early Blow.

How did their Bloom my Wishes raise!
What Hopes did they afford,
To earn my honour'd Master's Praise,
And crown his chearful Board!

Poor Morrice, wrapt in sad Surprize,
Demands in sober Mood,
Should Storms molest a Man so wise,
A Man so just and good?

Ah! Morrice, cease thy fruitless Moan,
Nor at Misfortunes spurn,
Misfortune's not thy Lot alone;
Each Neighbour hath his Turn.

Thy prostrate Peas, which low recline
Beneath the Frowns of Fate,
May teach much wiser Heads than thine
Their own uncertain State.

The sprightly Youth in Beauty's Prime,
The lovely Nymph so gay,
Oft Victims fall to early Time,
And in their Bloom decay.

In vain th'indulgent Father's Care,
In vain wise Precepts form:
They droop, like Peas, in tainted Air,
Or perish in a Storm.