The Mighty Mother, and her son wh… The Smithfield muses to the ear o… I sing. Say you, her instruments… Called to this work by Dulness, J… You by whose care, in vain decried…
Goddess of woods, tremendous in th… To mountain wolves and all the sav… Wide o’er the aerial vault extend… And o’er the infernal regions void… On thy third reign look down; disc…
Nothing so true as what you once l… “Most Women have no Characters at… Matter too soft a lasting mark to… And best distinguish’d by black, b… How many pictures of one nymph we…
Cardelia. The Basset—Table spread, the Tal… Why stays Smilinda in the Dressin… Rise, pensive Nymph, the Tallier… Smilinda.
Not with more glories, in th’ ethe… The sun first rises o’er the purpl… Than, issuing forth, the rival of… Launch’d on the bosom of the silve… Fair nymphs, and well—dress’d yout…
How happy he, who free from care The rage of courts, and noise of t… Contented breaths his native air, In his own grounds. II.
Lycidas. Thyrsis, the music of that murm’ri… Is not so mournful as the strains… Nor rivers winding thro’ the vales… So sweetly warble, or so smoothly…
She said, and for her lost Calant… When the fair Consort of her son… 'Since you a servant’s ravish’d fo… And kindly sigh for sorrows not yo… Let me (if tears and grief permit)…
While Celia’s Tears make sorrow b… Proud Grief sits swelling in her… The Sun, next those the fairest l… Thus from the Ocean first did ris… And thus thro’ Mists we see the S…
In vain you boast poetic names of… And cite those Sapphos we admire… Fate doomed the fall of every fema… But doomed it then, when first Ar… Of all examples by the world confe…
Here, shunning idleness at once an… This radiant pile nine rural siste… The glittering emblem of each spot… Clear as her soul and shining as h… Beauty which nature only can impar…
Vital spark of heav’nly flame! Quit, O quit this mortal frame: Trembling, hoping, ling’ring, flyi… O the pain, the bliss of dying! Cease, fond Nature, cease thy str…
You know where you did despise (Tother day) my little Eyes, Little Legs, and little Thighs, And some things, of little Size, You know where.
Say, lovely youth, that dost my he… Can Phaon’s eyes forget his Sapph… Must then her name the wretched wr… To thy remembrance lost, as to thy… Ask not the cause that I new numb…
Shut, shut the door, good John! f… Tie up the knocker, say I’m sick,… The dog—star rages! nay 'tis past… All Bedlam, or Parnassus, is let… Fire in each eye, and papers in ea…