Lines to John Northleigh

Though we that write in rhyme (it is confess'd)
Are wont to praise them most that need it least,
So far from doing what we had design'd
That we become impertinently kind;
Though I'm convinced of this, and right well know
I can add nothing to your Book, or You:
Yet am I forced th' old beaten road to go
And tell my friend what wonders he has done,
Where loyal labours could oblige a Crown--
A Crown asserted by the hand of heaven,
By which triumphant laurels now are given;
And may they never, never blasted be
By any Boanerges of Democracy.
Compassionate friend! whose arguments do prove
The force of reason and the power of love;
Taught by your generous and good-natured pen,
The salvage beasts may once more turn to men,
Be reconciled to the ill-treated Throne,
And shun those rocks their fellows split upon:
Your call to th' unconverted may do more
Than Orpheus' charms did in the woods before,
Convince the stubborn, and th' unwary lead
By benign arts those blessed steps to tread
In which our glorious Master led the way
To realms of peace and everlasting day.

Farewell, dear friend! and for this once excuse
The last efforts of an expiring Muse.