My name is Wheeler here I ly Because I happend for to dy life wheeld me in death wheeld me… how strangely things are wheeld ab…

In Phœbus Wit (as Ovid said) Enchanting Beauty woo’d; In Daphne Beauty coily fled, While vainly Wit pursu’d. But when you trace what Ovid writ…

Holy Jesus! God of Love! Look with pity from above, Shed the precious purple tide From thine hands, thy feet, thy si… Let thy streams of comfort roll,

Far in a wild, unknown to public v… From youth to age a rev’rend hermi… The moss his bed, the cave his hum… His food the fruits, his drink the… Remote from man, with God he pass…

The Man whose mind & actions… Can bravely triumph ore ye thought… He who unaltered fortunes Changes… Without elated or dejected lookes With a fixd carriage & undaunt…

Thou soft Engager of my tender ye… Divertive verse now come & eas… The Rake has wine the aged knave… Of what his death bed Charity wil… to lay his cares & mine are la…

To Henry, Lord Viscount Bolingbr… I hate the Vulgar with untuneful… Hearts uninspir’d, and Senses unr… Hence ye Prophane, I raise the so… And Bolingbroke descends to hear…

From that dire æra, bane to Saru… Which broke his schemes and laid h… He talks and writes that Pop’ry w… And we, and he, and all his works… What touch’d himself was almost fa…

In vain, poor Nymph, to please ou… You sleep in cream and frontlets a… Your face with patches soil, with… Dress with gay gowns, and shade wi… If truth in spight of manners must…

& tis too true alass! we find,… Virtue from earth a second time is… She onely then with her two sister… But now since he, what ere were go… Uncertain where to fix, in him the…

From Town fair Arabella flies, The Beaux unpowder’d grieve, The Rivers play before her eyes, The Breezes softly breathing rise The Spring begins to live.

O Tell if any fate you see Can more unhappy prove Than where the nymph will cruell b… & still the swain must love Twere Joy to sigh & serve a f…

Mourn widdowd Iland, Mourn, your… Mourn ye unhappy flocks your Shea… Around your grief in dolefull stra… & Lett ym in sad Eccho’s dy a… As sympathising wth their masters…

Compassion checks my spleen, yet… The tears a passage thro’ my swell… To laugh or weep at sins, might id… Unheedful passion, or unfruitful w… Satyr! arise, and try thy sharper…

When Pop’ry s arbitrary yoak Britannia feard of late To liberty Religion spoke To save ye sinking state Joy of the World the Goddess said