Is Viner Dead? and shall each Mu… Silent as Death, and as his Music… Shall he depart without a poet’s… Who oft to Harmony has tun’d thei… Shall he, who knew the Elegance o…

When rosy-finger’d Morn had ting’… Around their Monarch-Mouse the N… Slow rose the Monarch, heav’d his… And thus, the Council fill’d with… For lost Psycarpax much my Soul e…

Hail to the sacred silence of this… Hail to the greens below the green… Oft have I found beneath these sh… A reall in imaginary bliss for they my fancy sooth she’s a c…

The greatest Gifts that Nature do… Can’t unassisted to Perfection gr… A scanty Fortune clips the Wings… And checks the Progress of a risi… Each dastard Vertue drags a Capti…

He. When first my Biddy love prof… My rapture ran so high Not Gentle S—s fondly prest To beautious G—s panting breast Was half so blest as I

Young Philomela’s powrfull dart Two gentle shepheard’s hitt With Beauty touchd Amintors heart Celadons with witt The Rivall swains on either side

Hark the thundring Drums inviting All our forward youth to arms Hark the trumpets sounds exciting Manly Soules with fierce alarms Peace affords an Idle pleasure

By the blue taper’s trembling ligh… No more I waste the wakeful night… Intent with endless view to pore The schoolmen and the sages o’er: Their books from wisdom widely str…

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,

The Father lying in Bed hugging in his left arm a pot of Mony & laying severall pieces out of it before him. the son sitts at his feet in the habit of a souldier taking with his rig...

Once Pope under Jevais resolvd to… & from a Good Poet Pope turnd… So from a Good Painter Charles J… May turn an ill Poet by living wi… Then Each may perform the true pa…

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,

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

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.

I look & in a moment run The poison thro’ my veins Nor Celia think your self too you… to give me amorous pains When heaven did the Sun create