Why mourns my friend? why weeps hi… That eye where mirth, where fancy,… Thy cheerful meads reprove that sw… Spring ne’er enamell’d fairer mead… Art thou not lodged in Fortune’s…

When Celia, love’s eternal foe, To rich old Gomez first was marri… And angry Cupid came to know His shafts had err’d, his bow misc… He sigh’d, he wept, he hung his he…

Why o’er the verdant banks of Ous… Does yonder Halcyon speed so fast… ’Tis all because she would not los… Her favourite calm, that will not… The sun with azure paints the skie…

Shall Love alone for ever claim An universal right to fame, An undisputed sway? Or has not Music equal charms, To fill the breast with strange al…

’Twas in a land of learning, The Muse’s favourite city, Such pranks of late Were play’d by a rat, As-tempt one to be witty.

He Arrives at His Retirement in… To a Friend For rural virtues, and for native… I bade Augusta’s venal sons farew… Now 'mid the trees I see my smoke…

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…

How pleased within my native bower… Erewhile I pass’d the day! Was ever scene so deck’d with flow… Were ever flowers so gay? How sweetly smiled the hill, the v…

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…

Ye shepherds give ear to my lay, And take no more heed of my sheep: They have nothing to do but to str… I have nothing to do but to weep. Yet do not my folly reprove;

Ask not the cause why this rebelli… Loads with fresh curses thy detest… Ask not, thus branded in my softes… Why stands the flatter’d name, whi… ’Tis not, that in my shed I lurk…

Perhaps it is not love, said I, That melts my soul when Flavia’s… Where wit and sense like hers agre… One may be pleased, and yet be fre… The beauties of her polish’d mind

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…

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

How pleas’d within my native bower… Erewhile I pass’d the day! Was ever scene so deck’d with flow… Were ever flowers so gay? How sweetly smil’d the hill, the v…