“To him that occupies my study,
  I give, for use of making toddy,
  A bottle full of white-face STINGO,
  Another, handy, called a mingo. 
  My wit, as I’ve enough to spare,
  And many much in want there are,
  I ne’er intend to keep at home,
  But give to those that handiest come,
  Having due caution, where and when,
  Never to spatter gentlemen. 
  The world’s loud call I can’t refuse,
  The fine productions of my muse;
  If impudence to fame shall waft her,
  I’ll give the public all, hereafter. 
  My love-songs, sorrowful, complaining,
  (The recollection puts me pain in,)
  The last sad groans of deep despair,
  That once could all my entrails tear;
  My farewell sermon to the ladies;
  My satire on a woman’s head-dress;
  My epigram so full of glee,
  Pointed as epigrams should be;
  My sonnets soft, and sweet as lasses,
  My GEOGRAPHY of MOUNT PARNASSUS;
  With all the bards that round it gather,
  And variations of the weather;
  Containing more true humorous satire,
  Than’s oft the lot of human nature;
  (’O dear, what can the matter be!’
  I’ve given away my vanity;
  The vessel can’t so much contain,
  It runs o’er and comes back again.)
  My blank verse, poems so majestic,
  My rhymes heroic, tales agrestic;
  The whole, I say, I’ll overhaul ’em,
  Collect and publish in a volume.

 “My heart, which thousand ladies crave,
  That I intend my wife shall have. 
  I’d give my foibles to the wind,
  And leave my vices all behind;
  But much I fear they’ll to me stick,
  Where’er I go, through thin and thick. 
  On WISDOM’S horse, oh, might I ride,
  Whose steps let PRUDENCE’ bridle guide. 
  Thy loudest voice, O REASON, lend,
  And thou, PHILOSOPHY, befriend. 
  May candor all my actions guide,
  And o’er my every thought preside,
  And in thy ear, O FORTUNE, one word,
  Let thy swelled canvas bear me onward,
  Thy favors let me ever see,
  And I’ll be much obliged to thee;
  And come with blooming visage meek,
  Come, HEALTH, and ever flush my cheek;
  O bid me in the morning rise,
  When tinges Sol the eastern skies;
  At breakfast, supper-time, or dinner,
  Let me against thee be no sinner.

 “And when the glass of life is run,
  And I behold my setting sun,
  May conscience sound be my protection,
  And no ungrateful recollection,
  No gnawing cares nor tumbling woes,
  Disturb the quiet of life’s close. 
  And when Death’s gentle feet shall come
  To bear me to my endless home,
  Oh! may my soul, should Heaven but save it,
  Safely return to GOD who gave it.”
    Federal Orrery, Oct. 29, 1795. Buckingham’s Reminiscences,
    Vol.  II. pp. 228-231, 268-273.