When ore my temples balmy vapours… Whose soft suffusion dims the sink… Gay dreams in troops fantastically… On silent plumes wave down through… Nights sable curtains draw before…

Now leave the Porch, to vision no… Where the next rapture glows with… Now change the time, and change th… The following Seer forewarns a fu… To some retirement, where the Pro…

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…

Upon a time, and in a place, With Pan Apollo playd, Grave Midas sat to Judge ye case, And Pan ye Victour made. The Rustick to his Fauns withdrew…

Think England what it is to shake… & better use your King, His power raisd the frozen snake, & Must he when he hears it spe… find how the tongue can sting?

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…

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,

Blessed Light of saints on high Who fill the mansions of the sky, Sure defence, whose mercy still Preserves thy subjects here from i… O my Jesus! make me know

Time Sire of years unwind thy lea… & still the past recall to pre… Spread forth its circles, swiftly… But where an action’s nobly sung b… There stop & stay for me whose…

Rome when she could King Pyrrhus… She scornd a triumph So ignobly g… The treason & ye traitor both… & ever Justly conquerd ever J… But (Like an Affrick) England se…

Vast was his soul some favorite ab… Whose bolder pencil made a boy of… A boy he thought him lovers less t… Who barter all things for a crop o… He wisely too his roving pow’r bes…

Just when ye dead of night began t… & boding visions senceless dre… Methought a matron stood beside my… Upon her face a wondrous sweetness… & pointed Glorys dressd the mo…

Now Crowds more off, retiring tru… On Eccho’s dying in their last re… The notes of fancy seem no longer… But sweetning closes fitt a privat… So when the storms forsake ye seas…

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…

For Nothing Lucy never plays ye w… Thats true’€”for Lucy ever pays b…