When I heard you were landed, I flew to the Nine, br Intreating their Aid to invite you to dine. br They told me, I came on that Errand too late; br For you were engag'd by the Rich, and the Great. br Already! said I; they were speedy indeed: br However I'll try, and I hope to succeed. br Those Creatures of Power, who your Levee attend, br If your Father were out, their Conge's would end: br Tho' your personal Merit is great, 'tis allow'd; br 'Tis the Son of the Statesman, that weighs with the Croud. br I expect not a Place, nor hope for a Pension, br The Love of the Muse is my only Pretension. br I hate to abuse--and I never can flatter: br I write for no Party, nor either bespatter. br br From the Lands of Parnassus the Rents are ill--paid, br And England has cruelly cramp'd us in Trade: br So look not for China, or Service of Plate, br Or ought that is costly, to tempt you to eat. br Yet a Way to engage you I think I have hit on: br I mean, to remember our Friends in Great--Britain. br Two Bottles of Wine, and two Dishes I'll give: br Then fly from the Crouds that oppress you--and live. br br The first Glass shall welcome you, Sir, to our Coast; br And dear Lady Conway shall be my next Toast. br With Mirth, and good Humour, I'll make up the Treat; br I know you're too wise, to love dining in State.