To the Rt. Hon. Lord Kingsland

What humble Tribute shall the Muse afford, To hail her Patron, and approach her Lord; What melting flowing Numbers shall she find, To speak the Transports of a ravish'd Mind; In Notes unknown to raise her rural Lays, And sing of Virtue, and to Kingsland's Praise: The noble Theme my joyful Fancy fires, Inflames my Genius, and my Soul inspires. On lofty Pinnions boldly now I soar, Attempting Heights I never sought before. So from her Nest th' unfledged Lark does try, To spread her Wings, and fearful learns to fly; With feeble Strokes she fans the nether Air, Nor dares to mount, witheld by native Fear; 'Till warm'd to Strength by Phoebus' genial Ray, She wings the Aether, and explores the Day. Now let Hibernia's laurel'd Sons rejoice, And crown their Wishes in their Patron's Choice, In him secure Politeness still shall thrive, And Arts and Learning in his Race shall live. Those noble Pledges for some future Age, To nurse the Hero, and support the Stage: Reform the Coxcomb, and reclaim the Fool; Refine the Genius, and improve the Soul. Hail bright Pair in sacred Union join'd, To be the Darling of each others Mind; Enjoy those Banquets virtuous Love can give; Still feast on Bliss, and for each other live. May soft Content, improving new Delights, Smile on your Days, and crown with Joy your Nights; May Fate propitious downy Pleasures shed, And Genial Sweets surround your nuptial Bed, That Scene of Raptures, where Love's sacred Fire Inflames new Bliss, and kindles chaste Desire; Where ming'ling Minds in Ecstacy are lost, For blended Souls refine Fruition most, From that pure Source, where ev'ry Grace accords, May issue Heroes, and a Race of Lords. Let after Times admire their shining Fame, And distant Years revere a Barnwall's Name; Whose noble Soul no earthly Toys can move, From sacred Honour, or his Maker's Love.