An Apology to the Earl of Orrery, Dr. Swift, and some others of my Friends, for falling into Tears before them, on my leaving Ireland. Mary Barber Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T42622 519 p. 45 Barber, Mary, ca. 1690-1757. Poems on Several Occasions [poems only]. London Printed for C. Rivington, at the Bible and Crown in St. Paul's Church-Yard 1734 p. 256. xlviii,283,[7]p.; 8⁰.

This e-text is part of the Works section of the Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive (ECPA).

XML created for the Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive (ECPA).

Typography, spelling, capitalization, and punctuation have been cautiously modernized. The source of the text is given and all significant editorial interventions have been recorded in textual notes. This text has been edited to conform to the recommendations found in Level 5 of the Best Practices for TEI in Libraries version 4.0.0.

Library of Congress Name Authority File (LCNAF) text-indent: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: center; text-align: right; text-align: left; display: inline font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;
An Apology to the Earl of Orrery John Boyle (13 January 1707 - 16 November 1762), writer and friend of Swift, Pope, and Johnson. , Dr. Swift , and some others of my Friends , for falling into Tears before them , on my leaving Ireland . Not Persia's Monarch could , unmov'd , survey Those num'rous Hosts , which Time must sweep away : He wept Misfortunes of a distant Date ; I mourn the Rigour of my instant Fate : The dreaded Hour approaching fast I see , When you , alas ! will all be dead to me . Then cease to wonder , if my Bosom rise , And Tears , unbidden , rush into my Eyes ; 'Tis thus , and only thus , a grateful Breast Pours out those Thanks , which cannot be express'd : For , O Hibernia ! when I quit thy Coast , Such Friends I leave , as few could ever boast .