(Belvoir, August, 1784.)
From your own Belvoir, ‘mid your flow’ring Lymes
And loftier Oaks, accept these feeble rhymes—
Feeble, and far unlike this beauteous scene
Of Woods and Turrets grey and vallies green!—
To Rutland Health! Where’er his way he takes—
By Ireland’s frowning Hills or simple Lakes;
By Shannon’s spacious current, spreading wide
His aged Banks, or Allo’s tumbling Tide;
By Barrow’s Deeps, where Silver Salmon play;