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

To me ’twas given to die; to thee… To live: alas! one moment sets us… Mark! how impartial is the will of…

Here reading how fond Adam was be… And how by sin Eve’s blasted char… Our common loss unjustly you compl… So small that part of it which you… You still, fair mother, in your of…

Sure Cloe Just, and Cloe Fair Deserves to be Your only Care: But when You and She to-day Far into the Wood did stray, And I happen’d to pass by;

The Sceptics think ’twas long ago Since gods came down incognito To see who were their friends or f… And how our actions fell or rose;

His lamp, his bow, and quiver laid… A rustic wallet o’er his shoulders… Sly Cupid, always on new mischief… To the rich field and furrow’d til… Like any ploughman toil’d the litt…

Say, dearest Villiers, poor depar… (Since fleeting life thus suddenly… Say, what did all thy busy hopes a… That anxious thou from pole to pol… Ere on thy chin the springing bear…

Since, Moggy, I mun bid adieu, How can I help despairing? Let cruel Fate us still pursue, There’s nought more worth my carin… ’Twas she alone could calm my soul

Forbear to ask Me, why I weep; Vext Cloe to her Shepherd said: ’Tis for my Two poor stragling Sh… Perhaps, or for my Squirrel dead. For mind I what You late have wri…

Dear Cloe, how blubber’d is that… Thy cheek all on fire, and thy hai… Pr’ythee quit this caprice; and (a… Let us e’en talk a little like fol… How can’st thou presume, thou hast…

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:

Ma petite ame, ma mignonne, Tu t’en vas donc, máfille, et Die… Tu pars seulette, nuë, et tremblo… Que deviendra ton humeur folichonn… Que deviendront tant de jolis ébat…

How long, deluded Albion, wilt th… In the lethargic sleep, the sad re… By which thy close thy constant en… Has softly lull’d thee to thy woes… Or wake, degenerate isle, or cease…

When future ages shall with wonder… These glorious lines which Harley… They shall confess that Britain c… A fairer column to the father’s pr…

Behind an unfrequented glade, Where yew and myrtle MIX their s… A widow Turtle pensive sat, And wept her murder’d lover’s fate… The Sparrow chanced that way to w…