Nicol whom heaven hath blest with wine and oil
Proud steeds, a spacious house, and gardens fair
And eke released from thrift and sordid toil
Which he who lacketh fortune’s gifts must bear
Whether thou por’st on coke with studious air
Or to thy white buck wed’st the virgin doe
Or dreams’t of woolsacks in thine elbow chair
Or mark’st how sunshine makes the turnips grow
One moment on thy rambling friend bestow
Now posting from the fiend with haggard eye
Hight poverty that dogs him to and fro
And faster follows as he faster flies
Oh think on him whate’er thy task may be
Who in this doubtful race still kindly thinks on thee.
Sep. 9th 1792