‘Sir, will you please to walk befo… ‘No, pray, Sir-you are next the d… ‘Upon mine honour, I’ll not stir.… ‘Sir, I’m at home; consider, Sir’… ‘Excuse me, Sir; I’ll not go firs…

Well, Ladies—so much for the trag… And now the custom is to make you… To make us smile!—methinks I hear… Why, who can help it, at so strang… The captain gone three years!-and…

Why droops this heart with fancied… Why sinks my soul beneath this win… What pensive crowds, by ceaseless… What myriads, wish to be as blesse… What though my roofs, devoid of po…

A ballad. Written about the time… Come listen to my mournful tale, Ye tender hearts and lovers dear! Nor will you scorn to heave a sigh… Nor need you blush to shed a tear.

DECLINING AN INVITAT… While others, lost to friendship,… Waste their best minutes on a fore… Be mine, with British nymph or sw… And court the Genius of my native…

From a lone tower, with reverend i… The pealing bell awaked a tender s… Still, as the village caught the w… A swelling tear distream’d from ev… So droop’d, I ween, each Briton’s…

Ye birds! for whom I rear’d the g… With melting lay salute my love; My Daphne with your notes detain, Or I have rear’d my grove in vain… Ye flowers! before her footsteps r…

Ah! why for ever on the wing Persists my wearied soul to roam? Why, ever cheated, strives to brin… Or pleasure or contentment home? Thus the poor bird, that draws his…

He Takes Occasion, From the Fate… When Beauty mourns, by Fate’s inj… Hid from the cheerful glance of hu… When Nature’s pride inglorious wa… Hard is that heart which checks th…

Sed neque Medorum silvae, ditissi… Nec pulcher Ganges, atque auro tu… Laudibus Angligenum certent; non… Totaque thuriferis Panchaia pingu… Imitation.

Come then, Dione, let us range th… The science of the feather’d choir… Hear linnets argue, larks descant… And blame the gloom of solitude, n… My doubt subsides-'tis no Italian…

I told my nymph, I told her true, My fields were small, my flocks we… While faltering accents spoke my f… That Flavia might not prove since… Of crops destroyed by vernal cold,

What village but has sometimes see… The clumsy shape, the frightful mi… Tremendous claws, and shagged hair Of that grim brute yclept a bear? He from his dam the learn’d agree,

Hail curious Wights! to whom so f… The form of mortal flies is! Who deem those grubs beyond compar… Which common sense despises. Whether o’er hill, morass or mound…

Servum si potes, Ole, non habere, Et regem potes, Ole, non habere.… ('If thou from Fortune dost no se… Believe me thou no master need’st… I ask’d a friend, amidst the thron…