Trail all your pikes, dispirit every drum,
March in a slow procession from afar,
8 lines
Indulg'd by ev'ry active thought
When upwards they wou'd fly
96 lines
THUS Tapistry of old, the Walls adorn'd,
Ere noblest Dames the artful Shuttle scorn'd:
126 lines
This to the Crown, and blessing of my life,
The much lov'd husband, of a happy wife.
17 lines
Sure of Success, to You I boldly write,
Whilst Love do's ev'ry tender Line endite;
31 lines
THO' to Antiquity the Praise we yield
Of pleasing Arts; and Fable's earli'st Field
108 lines
In such a Night, when every louder Wind
Is to its distant Cavern safe confin'd;
49 lines
[Silvia] Pretty Nymph! within this Shade,
Whilst the Flocks to rest are laid,
82 lines
'Tis fit SERENA shou'd be sung.
High-born SERENA, Fair and Young,
76 lines
Persuade me not, there is a Grace
Proceeds from Silvia's Voice or Lute,
12 lines
To the Superior World to Solemn Peace
To Regions where Delights shall never cease
82 lines
A WIT, transported with Inditing,
Unpay'd, unprais'd, yet ever Writing;
109 lines
Cou'd our First Father, at his toilsome Plough,
Thorns in his Path, and Labour on his Brow,
11 lines
While Monarchs in stern Battle strove
For proud Imperial Sway;
55 lines
How vain is Life! which rightly we compare
To flying Posts, that haste away;
309 lines
Tis true of courage I'm no mistress
No Boadicia nor Thalestriss
84 lines
URANIA, whom the Town admires,
Whose Wit and Beauty share our Praise;
49 lines
WITH such a Pulse, with such disorder'd Veins,
Such lab'ring Breath, as thy Disease constrains;
100 lines
When such a day, blesst the Arcadian plaine,
Warm without Sun, and shady without rain,
70 lines
At last, my old inveterate foe,
No opposition shalt thou know.
43 lines
See, Phoebus breaking from the willing skies,
See, how the soaring Lark, does with him rise,
16 lines, 1 comment
CUPID, ere depriv'd of Sight,
Young and apt for all Delight,
37 lines
IN Vulgar Minds what Errors do arise!
How diff'ring are the Notions, they possess,
73 lines
PEACE! where art thou to be found?
Where, in all the spacious Round,
41 lines
In Fanscomb Barn (who knows not Fanscomb Barn?)
Seated between the sides of rising Hills,
123 lines
A Quack, to no true Skill in Physick bred,
With frequent Visits cursed his Patient's Bed;
52 lines
SO here confin'd, and but to female Clay,
ARDELIA's Soul mistook the rightful Way:
40 lines
FOR He, that made, must new create us,
Ere Seneca, or Epictetus,
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Eph. What Friendship is, ARDELIA shew.
Ard. 'Tis to love, as I love You.
20 lines
THEN, to the snowy Ewe, in thy esteem,
The Father of the Flock a Foe must seem,
234 lines
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