#English #Women
I grieve to see you waste your Ti… And turn your Thoughts so much to… Be wise—your useless Views resign… And fly the fair, delusive Nine. I know, they try their wonted Art…
Once Juno’s Bird (as Authors say… Was seiz’d on by some Birds of Pr… They pluck’d his Feathers, one by… Till all his useful Plumes were g… Stript him of ev’ry thing beside;
Thou glorious Ruler of the beaute… Have sev’nteen Years so swiftly r… Hast thou so oft the heav’nly Cir… When scarce I thought thy radiant… Never shall I my fleeting Time re…
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…
Say, Worsdcal, where you learn’d… To paint the Goodness of the Hear… The flatt’ring Teint let others p… You call the Soul into the Eyes: There we the various Virtues trac…
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…
Since Milo rallies sacred Writ, To win the Title of a Wit; ’Tis pity but he shou’d obtain it, Who bravely pays his Soul to gain…
See, in the Temple rais’d by Harl… His beauteous Off—spring at the A… There Mortimer resigns his darlin… To happy Portland gives the bloom… Where had the Parent’s Pray’r lik…
Your Wine, by Southern Suns refi… Is a just Emblem of your Mind: Like You, the gen’rous Juice disp… Its Influence a thousand Ways; Like You, it raises sinking Heart…
How gladly, Madam, would I go, To see your Gardens, and Chateau; From thence the fine Improvements… Or walk your verdant Avenue; Delighted, hear the Thrushes sing…
’Tis theirs, who but to please asp… On Fiction to employ the Lyre; Make Gods and Goddesses display The Splendor of the Nuptial Day. To paint thee at the hallow’d Shr…
In vain you shew a happy Nation, The Gospel’s gracious Dispensatio… And plead from thence, to bring up… To early Piety and Truth. To unattentive Ears you preach,
Return, brave Youth! suspend thy… Nor, like great Berwick, in the F… Illustrious Exile! thou art gone… Thy Toils, and various Dangers no… The royal Blood, which flow’d in…
O thou, my beauteous, ever tender… Thou, on whom all my worldly Joys… Accept these Numbers; and with Pl… Unstudy’d Truth, which few, alas!… While conscious Virtue takes the…
A Curious Statue, we are told, Is priz’d above its Weight in Gol… If the fair Form the Hand confess Of Phidias, or Praxiteles: But if the Artist could inspire
