If he regard not, though divine the theme. "Tis not in artful measures, in the chime And idle tinkling of a minstrel's lyre, To charm his ear, whose eye is on the heart; Whose frown can disappoint the proudest strain, Whose approbation-prosper even mine. AN EPISTLE TO JOSEPH HILL, ESQ. DEAR Joseph-five and twenty years ago- Lest he should trespass, begg'd to go abroad. Go, fellow !—whither?-turning short about— I knew the man, and knew his nature mild, Perhaps, his confidence just then betray'd, Perhaps 'twas mere good humour gave it birth, Oh, happy Britain! we have not to fear Such hard and arbitrary measure here; Else, could a law like that which I relate Once have the sanction of our triple state, Some few, that I have known in days of old, Would run most dreadful risk of catching cold; While you, my friend, whatever wind should blow, Might traverse England safely to and fro, An honest man, close-button'd to the chin, Broad-cloth without, and a warm heart within. |