None ever shared the social feast, Or as an inmate or a guest, Beneath the celebrated dome Where once Sir Isaac had his home… Who saw not (and with some delight

Ye Nymphs of Himera (for ye have… Erewhile for Daphnis and for Hyla… And over Bion’s long-lamented bie… The fruitless meed of many a sacre… Now, through the villas laved by…

Poor in my youth, and in life’s la… Rich to no end, I curse my natal… Who nought enjoy’d while young, de… And nought when old enjoy’d, denie…

A. You told me, I remember, glory… On selfish principles, is shame an… The deeds that men admire as half… Stark naught, because corrupt in t… Strange doctrine this! that withou…

Pause here, and think; a monitory… Demands one moment of thy fleeting… Consult life’s silent clock, thy b… Seems it to say—'Health here has… Hast thou the vigour of thy youth?…

Did Cytherea to the skies From this pellucid lymph arise? Or was it Cytherea’s touch, When bathing here, that made it su…

A miser traversing his house, Espied, unusual there, a mouse, And thus his uninvited guest Briskly inquisitive address’d: ‘Tell me, my dear, to what cause i…

How bless’d Thy creature is, O G… When with a single eye, He views the lustre of Thy Word, The dayspring from on high! Through all the storms that veil t…

Hence, my epistle—skim the Deep—f… Yon smooth expanse to the Teutoni… Haste—lest a friend should grieve… And the Gods grant that nothing t… I will myself invoke the King who…

When Hagar found the bottle spent And wept o’er Ishmael, A message from the Lord was sent To guide her to a well. Should not Elijah’s cake and crus…

And dwells there in a female heart… By bounteous heaven design’d The choicest raptures to impact, To feel the most refined; Dwells there a wish in such a brea…

Patron of all those luckless brain… That, to the wrong side leaning, Indite much metre with much pains, And little or no meaning; Ah why, since oceans, rivers, stre…

I sing of a journey to Clifton, We would have perform’d if we coul… Without cart or barrow to lift on Poor Mary and me through the mud; Slee, sla, slud,

Whence it is, that amazed I hear From yonder withered spray, This foremost morn of all the year… The melody of May? And why, since thousands would be…