Stella and Flavia, ev’ry Hour, Unnumber’d Hearts surprize: In Stella’s Soul lies all her Po… And Flavia’s, in her Eyes. More boundless Flavia’s Conquests…

This Present from a lovely Dame, Fair and unsully’d, as her Fame, Shall to Hibernia be convey’d, Where once, rever’d, her Father s… And taught the drooping Arts to s…

Sophronia, all the World agree, The Soul of Friendship dwells in… Let Envy other Gifts dispute, Since here the Fury must be mute. Without one vain, one venal View,

Sincerity, what are thy Views; No more my Breast attend. By thee, alas! we often lose, But seldom gain a Friend. No more with dang’rous Zeal presu…

Welcome, thou sacred, solemn Gues… Who com’st to guide me to the Ble… O Fountain of eternal Truth, Thou gracious Guardian of my Yout… True Wisdom to my Soul dispense,

So little giv’n at Chapel Door!— This People doubtless must be poo… So much at Gaming thrown away!— No Nation sure so rich as they. Britons, ’twere greatly for your…

Is what we owe great William then Forgotten by ungrateful Men? And has His Fame run out its Dat… Who snatch’d us from the Brink of… Else, why should Scholars, Sir,…

I read in your delighted Face, The Nuptial Bands are ty’d: From me congratulate her Grace, Young Portland’s lovely Bride. Tell her, an humble, artless Muse

The Favours of Fortune I once ho… And often invok’d her, but ever in… She despis’d my Addresses, which… I flew to the Muses, in Hopes of… Ah Wretch that I was! I might ve…

For fleeting Life recall’d, for H… Be first the God of Life and Hea… Whose boundless Mercy claims this… And next to Heav’n, I owe my Tha… To you, who feel the Ease your Me…

A sight like this, who can unmov’d… Impartial Muse, can’st thou with—… See the freed Captives hail their… And tread the Land of Liberty onc… See, as they pass, the crouding P…

Dear Rose, as I lately was writin… Which I next Day intended in Sch… My Mother came in, and I thought… ‘This Mr. Macmullen has ruin’d my… ‘He uses me ill, and the World sh…

I grieve to think that Waller’s b… Waller, so long, so justly, fam’d. Then own your Verses writ in Hast… Or I shall say, you’ve lost your… Perhaps your loyal Heart disdains

A mother, who vast Pleasure finds In modelling her Childrens Minds; With whom, in exquisite Delight, She passes many a Winter Night; Mingles in ev’ry Play, to find

Should you employ your Ridicule, On those who Pity claim? Think, Birtha, is the native Fool For Wit a proper Theme? On Vice your hum’rous Vein displa…