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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123

SONG.

[While soft Zelinda from yon Hill]

While soft Zelinda from yon Hill
The Silver Tide surveys,
The Air so mild, the Wind so still,
It gently fans the Sprays.

The pensive Nymph array'd in Green,
With golden Tresses spread,
Her snowy Arm reclin'd is seen,
On which she leans her Head.

To Love's Delights she tun'd her Tongue,
The Turtles ceas'd to coo,
The Linnets listen'd as she sung,
And seem'd to feel them too.

Alexis was the lovely Name
Which warbl'd through the Gale,
Echo return'd the charming Theme,
Still vocal in the Vale.

Alexis! dear deceitful Swain,
Why to my Passion blind?
O! give me back that Heart again,
Which I so late resign'd.

Or come, thou cruel conquering Boy,
Come crown the Vows you made,
Those Preludes to Love's raptur'd Joy,
When in the conscious Shade:

124

Where thy bewitching Language stole
Like Magic through my Breast,
Unlock'd the Secrets of my Soul,
And rifled all the rest.

Yet still I watch thy dear Return,
Still haunt each happy Place,
Where mutual Flames did equal burn,
And mutual Arms embrace.

But fly, Inconstant, from me go;
Why should a Nymph pursue
A faithless Swain who shuns her so,
A Swain that's never true?

O yes! reply'd my yielding Heart,
Itself alas! thy Prize,
Who can resist thy tempting Art,
Or long withstand those Eyes?