#Augustan
Close by those meads, for ever cro… Where Thames with pride surveys h… There stands a structure of majest… Which from the neighb’ring Hampto… Here Britain’s statesmen oft the…
‘Sir, I admit your general rule, That every poet is a fool. But you yourself may serve to show… Every fool is not a poet.’
Women ben full of Ragerie, Yet swinken not sans secresie. Thilke Moral shall ye understond, From Schoole—boy’s Tale of fayre… Which to the Fennes hath him beta…
Of gentle Philips will I ever sin… With gentle Philips shall the val… My numbers too for ever will I va… With gentle Budgell and with gent… Or if in ranging of the names I j…
'Tis hard to say, if greater want… Appear in writing or in judging il… But, of the two, less dang’rous is… To tire our patience, than mislead… Some few in that, but numbers err…
Celia, we know, is sixty—five, Yet Celia’s face is seventeen; Thus winter in her breast must liv… While summer in her face is seen. How cruel Celia’s fate, who hence
Cardelia. The Basset—Table spread, the Tal… Why stays Smilinda in the Dressin… Rise, pensive Nymph, the Tallier… Smilinda.
Tho’ Artemisia talks, by fits, Of councils, classics, fathers, wi… Reads Malbranche, Boyle, and Loc… Yet in some things methinks she fa… 'Twere well if she would pare her…
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…
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…
All hail, once pleasing, once insp… Scene of my youthful loves and hap… Where the kind Muses met me as I… And gently press’d my hand, and sa… Take all thou e’er shalt have, a c…
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…
Thou who shalt stop, where Thames… Shines a broad Mirror thro’ the s… Where ling’ring drops from min’ral… And pointed Crystals break the sp… Unpolish’d Gems no ray on Pride b…
She said: the pitying audience mel… But Fate and Jove had stopp’d the… In vain Thalestris with reproach… For who can move when fair Belind… Not half so fix’d the Trojan coul…
With no poetic ardour fir’d I press the bed where Wilmot lay; That here he lov’d, or here expir’… Begets no numbers grave or gay. Beneath thy roof, Argyle, are bre…
