Lord Boyle's Answer to the foregoing Verses.

No Air of Wit, no beauteous Grace I boast;
 My Charms are native Innocence at most. 
Alike thy Pencil, and thy Numbers charm,
 Glad ev'ry Eye, and ev'ry Bosom warm. 
Mature in Years, if e'er I chance to tread,
 Where Vice, triumphant, rears aloft her Head,
 Ev'n there the Paths of Virtue I'll pursue,
 And own my fair and kind Director You.