1709-1773.
Prologue to Thomson's Coriolanus.
For his chaste Muse employed her heaven-taught lyre
None but the noblest passions to inspire, Not one immoral, one corrupted thought,
One line, which dying he could wish to blot.
Epigram.
None without hope e'er loved the brightest fair,
But love can hope where reason would despair.
Soliloquy on a Beauty in the Country.
Where none admire, 'tis useless to excel;
Where none are beaux, 'tis vain to be a belle.
Song.
Alas! by some degree of woe
We every bliss must gain;
The heart can ne'er a transport know,
That never feels a pain.