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Hail, Barde triumphantlborn in happier Day;
Essay on irt
UINQUE dies tibi pollicitus me rare fu
EPIST LE VII.
Imitated in the Manner of Dr. Swift.
IS true, my Lord, I gave my word,
I would be with you, June the third ;
Have kept it--- as you do at Court.
And what a duft in every place ? e
And a thin Court that wants your Face,
And Fevers raging up and down, > And W* and H** both in Town!
“ The Dog-days are no more the case.” 'Tis true, but Winter comes apace : Then southward let your bard retire, Hold out some Months ’twixt Sun and Fire, And you
shall see the first warm Weather, Me and the Butterflies together,