#Augustan
With scornful mien, and various to… Fantastic vain, and insolently fai… Grandeur intoxicates her giddy bra… She looks ambition, and she moves… Far other carriage grac’d her virg…
Dear, damn’d distracting town, far… Thy fools no more I’ll tease: This year in peace, ye critics, dw… Ye harlots, sleep at ease! Soft B—and rough C—s adieu,
I know the thing that’s most uncom… (Envy be silent and attend!) I know a Reasonable Woman, Handsome and witty, yet a Friend. Not warp’d by Passion, aw’d by Ru…
What dire offence from am’rous cau… What mighty contests rise from tri… I sing—This verse to Caryl, Muse… This, ev’n Belinda may vouchsafe… Slight is the subject, but not so…
Nothing so true as what you once l… “Most Women have no Characters at… Matter too soft a lasting mark to… And best distinguish’d by black, b… How many pictures of one nymph we…
Of Manners gentle, of Affections… In Wit, a Man; Simplicity, a Chi… With native Humour temp’ring virt… Form’d to delight at once and lash… Above Temptation, in a low Estate…
Cardelia. The Basset—Table spread, the Tal… Why stays Smilinda in the Dressin… Rise, pensive Nymph, the Tallier… Smilinda.
Ye shades, where sacred truth is s… Groves, where immortal Sages taug… Where heav’nly visions of Plato f… And Epicurus lay inspir’d! In vain your guiltless laurels sto…
Shut, shut the door, good John! f… Tie up the knocker, say I’m sick,… The dog—star rages! nay 'tis past… All Bedlam, or Parnassus, is let… Fire in each eye, and papers in ea…
While you, great patron of mankind… The balanc’d world, and open all t… Your country, chief, in arms abroa… At home, with morals, arts, and la… How shall the Muse, from such a m…
Awake, my St. John! leave all mea… To low ambition, and the pride of… Let us (since life can little more… Than just to look about us and to… Expatiate free o’er all this scene…
Learn then what morals critics oug… For 'tis but half a judge’s task,… ‘Tis not enough, taste, judgment,… In all you speak, let truth and ca… That not alone what to your sense…
So when Curll’s Stomach the stron… (Infus’d in Vengenance of insulte… Th’ Avenger sees, with a delighte… His long Jaws open, and his Colou… And while his Guts the keen Emeti…
Thou art my God, sole object of m… Not for the hope of endless joys a… Nor for the fear of endless pains… Which they who love thee not must… For me, and such as me, thou deign…
The fair Pomona flourish’d in his… Of all the Virgins of the sylvan… None taught the trees a nobler rac… Or more improv’d the vegetable car… To her the shady grove, the flow’r…
