Tho’ the Plumb, and the Peach, wi… To present you their Softness, an… Their Aid is in vain; for what ca… But blush, and confess them selves… Where Virtue and Wit with such Q…

To the Right Hon. the Lady Carte… Weary’d with long Attendance on t… You, Madam, are the Wretch’s last… Eternal King! if here in vain I c… Where shall the Fatherless and Wi…

As thro’ this sylvan Scene I stra… I saw and lov’d the Iv’ry Maid: And hearing that she fled from Ma… I begg’d this Form of mighty Pan; To try, by ev’ry winning Art,

Ierne’s now our royal Care: We lately fix’d our Vice—roy ther… How near was she to be undone, Till pious Love inspir’d her Son! What cannot our Vice—gerent do,

Were Princes grac’d with Souls li… Princes had still been deem’d divi… Such Merit as we find in thee, First introduc’d Idolatry; When an excelling Form and Mind,

A courtier, summon’d hence of late… Was call’d to Minos’ Judgment Se… The Cretan Sage began the Charge… Recounted all his Crimes at large… His Insincerity, and Pride,

Let me the Honour soon obtain, For which I long have hop’d in va… Since I, alas! am now confin’d, Your Visit would be doubly kind. What Sorrows have I not to fear,

When I heard you were landed, I f… Intreating their Aid to invite yo… They told me, I came on that Erra… For you were engag’d by the Rich,… Already! said I; they were speedy…

You us’d me ill, and I withdrew, Intent on satirizing you. The Muses to my Aid I call; They came; and told me, one and al… That I mistook their Province qui…

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 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

Where—e’er you go, some Actions s… Which make the Goodness of your M… Hibernia early saw those Seeds of… In your fair Breast, which now sh… Foresaw the Hopes you gave, matur…

Not Persia’s Monarch could, unmov… Those num’rous Hosts, which Time… He wept Misfortunes of a distant… I mourn the Rigour of my instant… The dreaded Hour approaching fast…

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,

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…