In these deep solitudes and awful… Where heav’nly-pensive contemplati… And ever-musing melancholy reigns; What means this tumult in a vestal… Why rove my thoughts beyond this l…
Ye Lords and Commons, Men of Wit… And Pleasure about Town; Read this ere you translate one B… Of Books of high Renown. Beware of Latin Authors all!
Cardelia. The Basset—Table spread, the Tal… Why stays Smilinda in the Dressin… Rise, pensive Nymph, the Tallier… Smilinda.
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…
Lycidas. Thyrsis, the music of that murm’ri… Is not so mournful as the strains… Nor rivers winding thro’ the vales… So sweetly warble, or so smoothly…
‘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.’
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…
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…
Not with more glories, in th’ ethe… The sun first rises o’er the purpl… Than, issuing forth, the rival of… Launch’d on the bosom of the silve… Fair nymphs, and well—dress’d yout…
What beck’ning ghost, along the mo… Invites my steps, and points to yo… 'Tis she!—but why that bleeding bo… Why dimly gleams the visionary swo… Oh ever beauteous, ever friendly!…
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…
In beauty, or wit, No mortal as yet To question your empire has dared: But men of discerning Have thought that in learning
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…
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
Oh be thou blest with all that He… Long Health, long Youth, long Pl… Not with those Toys the female wo… Riches that vex, and Vanities tha… With added years if Life bring no…