#Augustan
Ye nymphs of Solyma! begin the so… To heavenly themes sublimer strain… The mossy fountains, and the sylva… The dreams of Pindus, and the Aon… Delight no more —O thou, my voice…
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…
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…
'Tis hard to say, if greater want… Appear in writing or in judging il… But, of the two, less dang’rous is… To tire our patience, than mislead… Some few in that, but numbers err…
See what delights in sylvan scenes… Descending Gods have found Elysiu… In woods bright Venus with Adonis… And chaste Diana haunts the fores… Come lovely nymph, and bless the s…
'Tis strange, the miser should his… To gain those riches he can ne’er… Is it less strange, the prodigal s… His wealth to purchase what he ne’… Not for himself he sees, or hears,…
High on a gorgeous seat, that far… Henley’s gilt tub, or Flecknoe’s… Or that where on her Curlls the p… All—bounteous, fragrant grains and… Great Cibber sate: the proud Parn…
Of all the causes which conspire t… Man’s erring judgment, and misguid… What the weak head with strongest… Is pride, the never—failing vice o… Whatever Nature has in worth deni…
True ease in writing comes from ar… As those move easiest who have lea… 'Tis not enough no harshness gives… The sound must seem an echo to the… Soft is the strain when Zephyr ge…
Happy the man, whose wish and care A few paternal acres bound, Content to breathe his native air, In his own ground. Whose herds with milk, whose field…
Close by those meads, for ever cro… Where Thames with pride surveys h… There stands a structure of majest… Which from the neighb’ring Hampto… Here Britain’s statesmen oft the…
With no poetic ardour fir’d I press the bed where Wilmot lay; That here he lov’d, or here expir’… Begets no numbers grave or gay. Beneath thy roof, Argyle, are bre…
She said: the pitying audience mel… But Fate and Jove had stopp’d the… In vain Thalestris with reproach… For who can move when fair Belind… Not half so fix’d the Trojan coul…
Of Manners gentle, of Affections… In Wit, a Man; Simplicity, a Chi… With native Humour temp’ring virt… Form’d to delight at once and lash… Above Temptation, in a low Estate…
But anxious cares the pensive nymp… And secret passions labour’d in he… Not youthful kings in battle seiz’… Not scornful virgins who their cha… Not ardent lovers robb’d of all th…
