And let the clouds echo His welcome with thunder,
Such a thunder as applauded what mortals had done,
When they fix'd on His brows His Imperial Crown.
To Mr. Isaac Walton, on his Publication of Thealma
Long had the bright Thealma lain obscure,
Her beauteous charms that might the world allure,
Lay like rough diamonds, in the mine, unknown,
By all the sons of folly trampled on,
Till your kind hand unveil'd her lovely face,