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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=455585" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Written Upon The Rocks At Tunbridge,</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=455585" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Hither, amongst the Crouds, that shun<br>The smoaky Town, and sultry Sun,<br>In cooling Springs to seek for Health,<br>Or throw away superfluous Wealth,<br>A Native of Hibernia came,<br>Thus writ her Thoughts, but not her Name.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=455585" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Hither the Britons, void of Care,<br>A happy, free--born Race, repair:<br>Whilst I, who feel a diff'rent Fate,<br>Lament my Country's wretched State;<br>The pitying Rocks return my Lays,<br>Just Emblem of the barren Bays.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=455585" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Thus far -- When, lo! the God of Wit,<br>Who slightly glanc'd on what was writ,<br>Suspend, he cries, thy Cares a--while;<br>My Sackville soon shall bless your lsle:<br>No longer talk of barren Bays;<br>Remember, 'tis a Dorset sways.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Mary+Barber">Mary Barber</a></strong></div>

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