Epistle to Robert Earl of Oxford and Earl Mortimer.

Such were the notes thy once-loved Poet sung, Till Death untimely stopp'd his tuneful tongue. Oh just beheld and lost! admired and mourn'd! With softest manners, gentlest arts adorn'd! Blest in each science, blest in every strain! Dear to the Muse! to Harley dear--in vain! For him, thou oft hast bid the world attend, Fond to forget the statesman in the friend; For Swift and him, despised the farce of state, The sober follies of the wise and great; Dext'rous, the craving, fawning crowd to quit, And pleased to 'scape from Flattery to Wit.…