With kind compassion hear my cry O Jesu, Lord of life, on high! As when the Summer’s seasons beat With scorching flame and parching… The trees are burnt, the flowers f…

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,

My thought, on views of admiration… Intently ravish’d and depriv’d of… Now darts a while on earth, a whil… Here mov’d with praise and mov’d w… The joys entrancing and the mute s…

Since bearing of a Gentle mind Woud make you perfect be Dear Celia to your self be kind By being so to me Hast to be happy while you can

As thro’ the Psalms from theme to… Methinks like Eve in Paradice I… And ev’ry grace of song I seem’d… As the gay pride of ev’ry season,… She gently treading all the walks…

Ye Wives who scold fishes sell, Or sing sell your fruit, I want a wondrous thing to tell, Then (if you can) be mute. From some of You one Homer came,

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…

How bless’d the man, how fully so, As far as man is bless’d below, Who taking up his cross essays To follow Jesus all his days, With resolution to obey,

Look mercyfully down O Lord & wash us from our sinn Cleanse us from wicked deeds witho… from wicked thoughts within Lord I Confess my many sinns

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 morning opens very freshly gay And life itself is in the month of… With green my fancy paints an arbo… And flowrets with a thousand colou… Then falls to weaving that, and sp…

How justly art when Cælia aids s… Contends her ms nature to excell The slender needles in that hand c… Such forms as hers but of a better… The silk is placd the winding trac…

Thanks to the friend whose happy l… In Derry’s oaten soil frozen air When to the Citty late I bid fare… Beneath my firm resolves my scribl… The Ghost of my departed Muse you…

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.

To the kind powr who taught me how… Thus with the first of all wch he… Did ancient piety approach the Go… Defended long by prejudice & p… Ive fancyd love a cant its god def…