Poem by Thomas Gent

On a Delightful Drawing in my Album

Welcome, my pretty Neddy—welcome too
Thy merry Rider with his apron blue;
And thou, poor Dog, most patient thing of all,
Begging for morsels that may never fall!
Oh! 'tis a faithful group—and it might shame
Painters of bold pretence, and greater name—
To see how nature triumphs, and how rare
Such matchless proofs of Nature's triumphs are—
The smallest particle of sand may tell
With what rich ore Pactolus' tide may swell:
And Woodward! this ingenious, chaste design,
Proclaims what treasures lie within the mine—
Pupil of Cooper—Nature's favorite son—
Whom, but to name, and to admire, is one!

1. To a Fly, on the Bosom of Chloe, While Sleeping
2. Henry and Eliza
3. Lines, Written on the Sixth of September
4. On the Death of Lord Nelson
5. To ––––

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