Stern Winter now, by Spring repre… Forbears the long-continued strife… And Nature, on her naked breast, Delights to catch the gales of lif… Now o’er the rural kingdom roves,

Clouds do not always veil the skie… Nor showers immerse the verdant pl… Nor do the billows always rise, Or storms afflict the ruffled main… Nor, Valgius, on the Armenian sho…

LONG-EXPECTED one and twenty Ling’ring year at last has flown, Pomp and pleasure, pride and plent… Great Sir John, are all your own. Loosen’d from the minor’s tether,

When Scaliger, whole years of lab… Beheld his lexicon complete at las… And weary of his task, with wond’r… Saw, from words pil’d on words, a… He curs’d the industry, inertly st…

The rites derived from ancient day… With thoughtless reverence we prai… The rites that taught us to combin… The joys of music and of wine, And bid the feast, and song and bo…

Had this fair figure, which this f… Adorn’d in Roman time the brighte… In every dome, in every sacred pla… Her statue would have breathed an… And on its basis would have been e…

Written in Ridicule of Certain P… {of Thomas Warton} Published in 1… Wheresoe’er I turn my view, All is strange, yet nothing new; Endless labour all along,

The snow dissolv’d, no more is see… The fields and woods, behold! are… The changing year renews the plain… The rivers know their banks again; The sprightly nymph and naked grac…

Oft in danger, yet alive, We are come to thirty-five; Long may better years arrive, Better years than thirty-five. Could philosophers contrive

Let observation with extensive vie… Survey mankind, from China to Per… Remark each anxious toil, each eag… And watch the busy scenes of crowd… Then say how hope and fear, desire…

At length must Suffolk beauties s… So long renown’d in B-n’s deathle… Thy charms at least, fair Firebra… Some zealous bard to wake the slee… For such thy beauteous mind and lo…

Behold, my fair, where’er we rove, What dreary prospects round us ris… The naked hill, the leafless grove… The hoary ground, the frowning ski… Nor only through the wasted plain,

She ceas’d; then godlike Hector a… (His various plumage sporting in t… ‘That post and all the rest shall… But shall I then forsake the unfi… How would the Trojans brand great…

The man who pants for ample sway, Must bid his passions all obey; Must bid each wild desire be still… Nor yoke his reason with his will: For though beneath thy haughty bro…

The man, my friend, whose consciou… With virtue’s sacred ardour glows, Nor taints with death the envenom’… Nor needs the guard of Moorish bo… Though Scythia’s icy cliffs he tr…