TO ROBERT JEPHSON, ESQUIRE.
London, March 4th, 1794.
HO' in Politics sever'd, you'll always admit
That I tasted your humour, and relish'd your Wit ;
When Townshend's gay strain made the whole Circle shine,
While a Viceroy, for once, gave us Wit with his Wine,
And friendships dear tie still exulting I own,
That binds me to Windham, to You, and Malone :
Malone far remov'd from all party-dissension,
Would hang, draw, and quarter, the Gallic Convention ;
On this point alone, (and I fear you wou'd aid him)
Not ev'n his lov'd Bard* can to mercy persuade him :
From our Side, with a sigh I saw Windham depart,
His opinion may err, but how noble's his heart !
Tho' such Virtues I love, and such Talents I prize,
Yet your Crusade of Kings from my soul I despise ;
Look at Poland, and plunder (their Royal reform)
And hail Freedom with me, tho' she rise in a storm !
Then Jephson farewell, with best wishes adieu,
Who loves Genius and Merit, will always love You.
To a Congratulatory Ode
N O T E S.
* Shakspeare.See the Merchant of Venice, Act IV.
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