To Mr John Salt, of Lichfield

Late on a sullen Summer night
Thy intellectual morning hung;
I mark’d its dawn with calm delight,
Whose vivid, soft, and dewy ray,
From the rich orb of Genius sprung,
Each adolescent grace among,
Gives lovely promise of a golden day.

But, leaving metaphoric lays,
Let me, ingenuous Youth, impart,
Warm in the glow of honest praise,
Fond, local hopes to see thy name
Increase the claims to classic art,
Philosophy and high desert,
That raise thy LICHFIELD to the heights of Fame.