November, 1789.
WHILE Morcham does your much lov’d presence share,
And Lydia’s health claims your maternal care,
O Madam, deign with candour to peruse
A rustic lay, presented by the Muse.
From Loudoun’s plains she now awakes the lyre,
And gladly would to arduous feats aspire.
On the smooth margin of the stream reclin’d,
She fondly hopes to please a taste refin’d.
What tho’ she boast of no peculiar charm,