O Charlotte, truly pious, early w… The Pleasures sought by others, y… Nor Bath, nor Bath’s Allurements… Unmov’d, you quit them to the Gay… But tho’ nor Health, nor Pleasure…

The Favours of Fortune I once ho… And often invok’d her, but ever in… She despis’d my Addresses, which… I flew to the Muses, in Hopes of… Ah Wretch that I was! I might ve…

Ye heedless Fair, who trifle Life… Let either Brownlow set your Noti… Be, like the Daughter, innocently… Or, like the Mother, prudent and…

For give me, fair One, nor resent The Lines to you I lately sent. They seem, as if your Form you pr… And ev’ry other Gift despis’d: When a discerning Eye may find,

O wretch! hath Madness cur’d thy… Yes—All thy Sorrows now are light… No more you mourn your once lov’d… Who bravely perish’d for a thankle… For rolling Years thy Piety preva…

Is what we owe great William then Forgotten by ungrateful Men? And has His Fame run out its Dat… Who snatch’d us from the Brink of… Else, why should Scholars, Sir,…

Goddess of Health, where—e’er you… To Philomela fly; O hasten from your rural Cell, Nor let the Fair one die. Again her Voice divine restore,

Your Wine, by Southern Suns refi… Is a just Emblem of your Mind: Like You, the gen’rous Juice disp… Its Influence a thousand Ways; Like You, it raises sinking Heart…

As in some wealthy, trading Town, Where Riches raise to fure Renown… The Man, with ample Sums in Stor… More than enough, yet wanting more… Bent on Abundance, first secures

Dear Psyche, come, with chearful… And bless this desolated Place. O come! my sickly Couch attend, And ease the Anguish of your Frie… Thy Soul, with ev’ry Grace supply…

See, in the Temple rais’d by Harl… His beauteous Off—spring at the A… There Mortimer resigns his darlin… To happy Portland gives the bloom… Where had the Parent’s Pray’r lik…

Tell me, my Patroness, and Friend… Can Age Parnassian Heights ascen… Sweet Poesy’s light Footsteps tra… Ah no! I must give up the Chace: When Time the Head hath silver’d…

I beg your Scholar you’ll excuse, Who dares no more debase the Muse… My Mother says, If e’er she hears… I write again on worthless Peers, Whether they’re living Lords, or…

Were Princes grac’d with Souls li… Princes had still been deem’d divi… Such Merit as we find in thee, First introduc’d Idolatry; When an excelling Form and Mind,

WHAT is it our mamma’s bewitches… To plague us little boys with bree… To tyrant Custom we must yield, Whilst vanquish’d Reason flies th… Our legs must suffer by ligation,