Quid facis Arctoi charissime tran… Ingele, proh sero cognite, rapte c… Num satis Hybernum defendis pelli… Qui modo tam mollis nec bene firmu… Quae Gentes Hominum, quae sit Na…

Where the remote Bermudas ride In th’ Oceans bosome unespy’d, From a small Boat, that row’d alo… The listning Winds receiv’d this… What should we do but sing his Pr…

You, that decipher out the Fate Of humane Off-springs from the Sk… What mean these Infants which of… Spring from the Starrs of Chlora’… Her Eyes confus’d, and doubled or…

When I beheld the Poet blind, yet… In slender Book his vast Design u… Messiah Crown’d, Gods Reconcil’d… Rebelling Angels, the Forbidden… Heav’n, Hell, Earth, Chaos, All;…

How wisely Nature did decree, With the same Eyes to weep and se… That, having view’d the object vai… They might be ready to complain. And since the Self-deluding Sight…

When for the Thorns with which I… With many a piercing wound, My Saviours head have crown’d, I seek with Garlands to redress t… Through every Garden, every Mead,

The forward youth that would appea… Must now forsake his Muses dear, Nor in the shadows sing His numbers languishing. ’Tis time to leave the books in du…

Like the vain Curlings of the Wat… Which in smooth streams a sinking… So Man, declining alwayes, disapp… In the Weak Circles of increasing… And his short Tumults of themselv…

Holland, that scarce deserves the… As but th’Off-scouring of the Bri… And so much Earth as was contribu… By English Pilots when they heav’… Or what by th’ Oceans slow alluvi…

Ametas Think’st Thou that this Love can… Whilst Thou still dost say me nay… Love unpaid does soon disband: Love binds Love as Hay binds Hay…

SEE how the flowers, as at parade… Under their colours stand display’… Each regiment in order grows, That of the tulip, pink, and rose. But when the vigilant patrol

Within this sober Frame expect Work of no Forrain Architect; That unto Caves the Quarries drew… And Forrests did to Pastures hew; Who of his great Design in pain

An Horatian Ode upon Cromwell… The forward youth that would appea… Must now forsake his muses dear, Nor in the shadows sing, His numbers languishing.

Charissimo Filio &c. Pater & Mater &c. funebrem tabulam curavimus. Age Marmor, & pro solita tua… (Ne inter Parentum Dolorem &…

Soul O Who shall, from this Dungeon, r… A Soul inslav’d so many wayes? With bolts of Bones, that fetter’… In Feet ; and manacled in Hands.