While blooming youth and gay delig… Sit on thy rosy cheeks confess’d, Thou hast, my dear, undoubted righ… To triumph o’er this destined brea… My reason bends to what thy eyes o…

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…

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…

Yes, fairest Proof of Beauty’s P… Dear Idol of My panting Heart, Nature points This my fatal Hour: And I have liv’d; and We must par… While now I take my last Adieu,

Apollo. Abate, fair fugitive, abate thy sp… Dismiss thy fears, and turn thy be… With kind regard a panting lover v… Less swiftly fly, less swiftly I’…

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

Light of the World, and Ruler of… With happy Speed begin Thy great… And, as Thou dost thy radiant Jou… Through every distant Climate own… That in fair Albion Thou hast see…

Lords, knights, and squires, the n… That wear the fair Miss Mary’s fe… Were summon’d by her high command, To show their passions by their le… My pen amongst the rest I took,

Farewell, Amynta, we must part; The charm has lost its power Which held so fast my captived hea… Until this fatal hour. Hadst thou not thus my love abused…

WHAT nymph should I admire or tr… But Chloe beauteous, Chloe just? What nymph should I desire to see… But her who leaves the plain for m… To whom should I compose the lay,

Still, Dorinda, I adore; Think I mean not to deceive you, For I loved you much before, And, alas! now love you more Though I force myself to leave yo…

Ovid is the surest guide You can name to show the way To any woman, maid, or bride, Who resolves to go astray.

The train of equipage and pomp of… The shining sideboard and the burn… Let other ministers, great Anne,… And partial fall thy gift to their… To the fair Portrait of my sovere…

Whilst I in prison or in court lo… Nor beg thy favour nor deserve thy… In vain malicious Fortune hast th… By taking from my state to quell m… Insulting girl, thy present rage a…

Dulce est desipere in loco. Some Folks are drunk, yet do not… So might not Bacchus give You La… Was it a Muse, O lofty Poet, Or Virgin of St. Cyr, You saw?