Had this fair figure which this frame displays,
Adorn'd in Roman times the brightest days,
In every dome, in every sacred place,
Her statue would have breath'd an added grace,
And on its basis would have been enroll'd,
" This is Minerva, cast in Virtue's mould."

Long may live my lovely Hetty!
Always young and always pretty!
Always pretty, always young,
Live my lovely Hetty long!
Always young and always pretty;
Long may live my lovely Hetty!

Around the Springs of Gray my wild root weaves
Traveller repose & Dream among my leaves.

Call that the Public Voice which is their Error
Like as a Monkey peeping in a Mirror
Admires all his colours brown & warm
And never once percieves his ugly form

" The fox, the owl, the spider, and the mole,
By sweet reserve and modesty get fat."

In the last Battle that Arthur fought, the most Beautiful was one
That return'd, and the most Strong another: with them also return'd
The most Ugly, and no other beside return'd from the bloody Field.

The most Beautiful, the Roman Warriors trembled before and worshipped:
The most Strong, they melted before him and dissolved in his presence:
The most Ugly they fled with outcries and contortion of their Limbs.

O Reader behold the Philosophers Grave.
He was born quite a Fool: but he died quite a Knave

He makes the Lame to walk we all agree
But then he strives to blind those who can see.

When France got free Europe 'twixt Fools & Knaves
Were Savage first to France, & after; Slaves

In classic beauty, cold, immaculate,
A voiceful sculpture, stern and still she stands,
Upon her brow deep-chiselled love and hate,
That sorrow o'er dead roses in her hands.