TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE EARL OF SHELBURNE.

Ah! SHELBURNE, blest with all that's good or great T'adorn a rich, or save a sinking, state— If public Ills engross not all thy care, Let private Woe assail a patriot's ear; Pity confined, but not less warm, impart, And unresisted win thy noble heart; Nor deem I rob thy soul of Britain's share, Because I hope to have some interest there. Still wilt thou shine on all a fostering sun, Though with more fav'ring beams enlight'ning one; As Heaven will oft make some more amply blest, Yet still in general bounty feeds the rest. Oh, hear the Virtue thou reverest plead; She'll swell thy breast, and there applaud the deed. She bids thy thoughts one hour from greatness stray, And leads thee on to fame a shorter way; Where, if no withering laurel's thy reward, There's shouting Conscience, and a grateful Bard; A bard untrained in all but misery's school, Who never bribed a knave or praised a fool. 'Tis Glory prompts, and, as thou read'st, attend; She dictates pity, and becomes my friend; She bids each cold and dull reflection flee, And yields her Shelburne to distress and me!