Is there a hope, that man would thankful be, If I should fail, in gratitude, to thee To whom I am so bound, loved Aubigny? No, I do, therefore, call posterity Into the debt; and reckon on her head, How full of want, how swallowed up, how dead I, and this muse had been, if thou hadst not Lent timely succours, and new life begot: So, all reward, or name, that grows to me By her attempt, shall still be owing thee. And, than this same, I know no abler way To thank thy benefits: which is, to pay. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DEATH AND THE LADY; THEIR BARGAIN TOLD AGAIN by LEONIE ADAMS FLEUR DE LIS by GRACE EVELYN BROWN THE SABBATH by EDWARD GEORGE EARLE LYTTON BULWER-LYTTON OLD VERMONT ROADS by DANIEL LEAVENS CADY AN EPITAPH ON ROBERT PORT, ESQ., DESIGNED FOR A MONUMENT by CHARLES COTTON |