How blithely pass’d the summer’s d… How bright was every flower! While friends arrived in circles g… To visit Damon’s bower! But now, with silent step I range

‘These are messengers That feelingly persuade me what I… Comes a dun in the morning and rap… ‘I made bold to call-’tis a twelve… I’m sorry, believe me, to trouble…

Yes; Fulvia is like Venus fair, Has all her bloom, and shape, and… But still, to perfect every grace, She wants-the smile upon her face. The crown majestic Juno wore;

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…

[Somewhat Too Solicitious about… Survey, my fair! that lucid stream… Adown the smiling valley stray; Would Art attempt, or Fancy dream… To regulate its winding way?

‘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…

On fair Asteria’s blissful plains… Where ever-blooming fancy reigns, How pleased we pass the winter’s d… And charm the dull-eyed Spleen aw… No linnet, from the leafless bough…

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

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…

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…

’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.

So dear my Lucio is to me, So well our minds and tempers blen… That seasons may for ever flee, And ne’er divide me from my friend… But let the favour’d boy forbear

When first, Philander, first I ca… Where Avon rolls his winding stre… The nymphs, how brisk, the swains,… To see Asteria, queen of May! The parsons round her praises sung…

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…

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…