SONNET
TO THE
RIGHT HONOURABLE LADY MARY COKE.

The gentle maid, whose hapless tale
      These melancholy pages speak—
Say, gracious lady, shall she fail
      To draw the tear adown thy cheek?

No; never was thy pitying breast
      Insensible to human woes;
Tender, tho’ firm, it melts distrest
      For weaknesses it never knows.

Oh! guard the marvels I relate
Of fell ambition scourg’d by fate,
      From reason’s peevish blame.
Blest with thy smile, my dauntless sail
I dare expand to Fancy’s gale,
      For sure thy smiles are Fame.