To Sir HENRY ASHURST, at Bath; From Mr. HANBURY

To you addressing, gentle Knight, I chuse in humble verse to write; For you delight in dance and song, For ever gay, for ever young: But let not Biller's learned eye O'erlook my feeble poetry; For London's fogs the muses choke, With seas of dirt and clouds of smoke. Not so at Bath, where morning air Breathes on the early-rising fair; Where love once dipt his fiery darts, And, with the waters, warms our hearts; Where battledores beat tuneful time, And teach young poets how to rhime; Where snowy arms at once inspire The flying cock, and soft desire. Where happy walks and groves are free From politicks and calumny; Nor sword, nor hoop, dares gives offence; Such was the state of innocence. These various pleasures that possess Where health and joy and beauty please, Unwearied at the longest ball, 'Tis you alone enjoy 'em all: Whilst I, opprest with grief of mind, Lament the joys I left behind, With aking heart I bid adieu, For ever yours, E. U.

Pray give my services and kisses Amongst the widows and the misses. January 28 is the date, you find One thousand 7 hundred 28 and nine. And now, dearest Knight, we're all Arriv'd in safety at Whitehall.