MY LORD, OUR weekly friends to-morrow meet At matthew's palace, in Duke Street, To try for once, if they can dine On bacon-ham, and mutton-chine. If wearied with the great affairs, Which Britain trusts to Harley's cares, Thou, humble statesman, mayst descend, Thy mind one moment to unbend, To see thy servant from his soul Crown with thy health the sprightly bowl: Among the guests, which e'er my house Received, it never can produce Of honour a more glorious proof; Though Dorset used to bless the roof. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BOBOLINKS by CHRISTOPHER PEARSE CRANCH A DIALOGUE BETWEEN TWO SHEPHERDS IN PRAISE OF ASTRAEA by MARY SIDNEY HERBERT THE LITANY [TO THE HOLY SPIRIT] by ROBERT HERRICK IDYLL 16. TO THE EVENING STAR by BION |