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,…

See, the bright Sun renews his an… Each Beam re—tinges, and revives… By Years uninjur’d; so may’st tho… Not Time from thee, but thou from… O might the Fates thy vital Threa…

Say, my Hortensia, in this silent… When the pale Queen of Night exer… What Guardian—Angels on thy Slum… To paint the Glories of thy futur… To shew what Mansions, in the Rea…

Shall for the Man of Ross thy Ly… And sleeps illustrious Thanet yet… Since to distinguish Merit is thy… Let Thanet in thy deathless Prais… Let me, unequal to the Task, exci…

Start not, nor tremble at the Sig… It comes not written from the Rea… ’Tis true, you see, your once—lov’… Thence may conclude from Heav’n s… Conscious perhaps of your celestia…

So Ceres, lovely and divine, Eager to see her Proserpine, Blessing the Nations as she pass’… Reach’d the fell Tyrant’s Court a… Around her shot a Gleam of Light,

O wretch! hath Madness cur’d thy… Yes—All thy Sorrows now are light… No more you mourn your once lov’d… Who bravely perish’d for a thankle… For rolling Years thy Piety preva…

The Britons, in their Nature shy, View Strangers with a distant Eye… We think them partial and severe; And judge their Manners by their… Are undeceiv’d by Time alone;

I little thought that honest Dick Would slight me so, when I was si… Is he a Friend, who only stays, Whilst Health and Pleasure gild o… Flies, when Disease our Temper so…

Might I inquire the Reasons of my… Or with my Maker dare expostulate… Did I, in prosp’rous Days, despis… Or drive the friendless Stranger… Was not my Soul pour’d out for th…

Tho’ great Longinus claims thy ai… And hopes, thro’ thee, t’instruct… Where vile Conceits the Pow’r of… And true Sublimity is lost in Sou… Where Folly, dress’d ten thousand…

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…

Remote from Strife, from urban Th… Here dwells my Soul amidst domest… No ratling Coaches serious Though… Nor busy prating Fools my Peace d… Wrapt up in all the Sweets of rur…

Children are snatch’d away sometim… To punish Parents for their Crime… Thy Mother’s Merit was so great, Heav’n hasten’d thy untimely Fate… To make her Character complete.

O Charlotte, truly pious, early w… The Pleasures sought by others, y… Nor Bath, nor Bath’s Allurements… Unmov’d, you quit them to the Gay… But tho’ nor Health, nor Pleasure…