To town I am come, as good folks you may see,
Pray what do you think now, my object may be?
‘Tis to read and recite from fam’d Milton and Pope,
For in town, they all told me, that genius had scope.
At Bath, and at Brighton, I oft did recite,–
They told me my efforts to please gave delight;
It sure did me honour, but still I’d in view,
That I ne’er could feel pleas’d till approv’d of by you.
With faults great and many I sure am possess’d,–
With perfection below few people are bless’d;
But if nourished and rear’d by your fostering care,
I’ll be grateful for ever, I vow and declare.
‘Tis with fear, hope, and terror, your presence I meet;
Oh, should you but smile, and my efforts now greet,
My faults I’ll correct, and to life’s latest day
Will prove that your goodness was not thrown away.
(Elizabeth Beverley)
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