#English
When Jove lay bless’d in his Alcm… Three nights in one he press’d her… The sun lay set, and conscious nat… To shade her god, and to prolong h… From that auspicious night Alcide…
In Virgil’s Sacred Verse we find… That Passion can depress or raise The Heav’nly, as the Human Mind: Who dare deny what Virgil says? But if They shou’d; what our Grea…
Is it, O love, thy want of eyes, Or by the Fates decreed, That hearts so seldom sympathise, Or for each other bleed? If thou wouldst make two youthful…
In vain you tell your parting love… You wish fair winds may waft him o… Alas! what winds can happy prove That bear me far from what I love… Alas! what dangers on the main
MY noble, lovely, little Peggy, Let this my First Epistle beg ye, At dawn of morn, and close of even… To lift your heart and hands to H… In double duty say your prayer:
In one great now, superior to an age, The full extremes of nature’s forc… How heavenly virtue can exalt, or… Infernal how degrade the human min…
As the Chameleon, who is known To have no colours of his own, But borrows from his neighbour’s h… His white or black, his green or b… And struts as much in ready light,
Will Piggot must to Coxwould go, To live, alas! in want, Unless Sir Thomas say, No, no, Th’ allowance is too scant. The gracious knight full well does…
Hans Carvel, impotent and old, Married a lass of London mould. Handsome? Enough; extremely gay; Loved music, company, and play: High flights she had, and wit at w…
Touch the lyre, touch every string… Touch it, Orpheus; I will sing A song which shall immortal be, Since she I sing’s a deity; A Leonora, whose bless’d birth
AS doctors give physic by way of… Mat, alive and in health, of hi… For delays are unsafe, and his pio… May haply be never fulfill’d by… Then take Mat’s word for it, the…
Dear Thomas, didst thou never pop Thy head into a tin-man’s shop? There, Thomas, didst thou never s… ('Tis but by way of simile) A squirrel spend his little rage
Ovid is the surest guide You can name to show the way To any woman, maid, or bride, Who resolves to go astray.
Well, I will never more complain, Or call the Fates unkind; Alas! how fond it is, how vain! But self-conceitedness does reign I nevery mortal mind.
Phillis, this pious talk give o’er… And modesty pretend no more, It is too plain an art: Surely you take me for a fool, And would by this prove me so dull