To Alexander Cunningham – [To Alexander Cunningham]

My godlike Friend------nay, do not stare,
You think the praise is odd-like;
But, 'God is love,' the saints declare,
Then surely thou art Godlike.

And is thy Ardour still the same?
And kindled still at Anna?
Others may boast a partial flame,
But thou art a Volcano.------

Even Wedlock asks not Love beyond
Death's tie-dissolving Portal;
But thou, omnipotently fond,
May'st promise Love Immortal.------

Prudence, the Bottle and the Stew
Are fam’d for Lovers’ curing:
Thy Passion nothing can subdue,
Nor Wisdom, Wine, or Whoring.------

Thy Wounds such healing powers defy;
Such Symptoms dire attend them;
That last, great Antihectic try,
Marriage, perhaps, may mend them.------

Sweet Anna has an air, a grace,
Divine magnetic touching!
She takes, she charms--------but who can trace
The process of BEWITCHING