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

Rejoic'd, I went, of speeding sure,
My Lord! at your Command:
I boldly stood at STANHOPE'S Door,
And stoutly stretch'd my Hand.

The sounding Brass I rashly rais'd,
Resolv'd my Hopes to crown;
Some Pow'r unseen my Senses seiz'd;
I laid it silent down.

The Knocker thus I thrice upheld,
And thrice I made Essay:
For your Command my Arm impell'd,
And I would fain obey.

But Fate fotbid th' intruding Sound,
Which would his Ears assail:
By Greatness aw'd and Worth renown'd,
Hibernian Front must fail.