At dead of night, when stars appea… And strong Bootes turns the Bear, When mortals sleep their cares awa… Fatigued with labours of the day, Cupid was knocking at my gate;

Lysander talks extremely well; On any subject let him dwell His tropes and figures will conten… He should possess to all degrees The art of talk; he practises

When Cloe’s Picture was to Venus… Surpriz’d, the Goddess took it fo… And what, said She, does this bol… When was I Bathing thus, and Nak… Pleas’d Cupid heard, and check’d…

Solomon considers man through the several stages and conditions of life, and concludes, in general, that we are all miserable. He reflects more particularly upon the trouble and uncerta...

Say, sire of insects, mighty Sol, (A fly upon the chariot-pole Cries out) What blue-bottle alive Did ever with such fury drive? Tell Beelzebub, great Father, tel…

Soft Cupid, wanton, amorous boy, The other day, moved with my lyre, In flattering accents spoke his jo… And uttered thus his fond desire. Oh! raise thy voice, one song I a…

I, MY dear, was born to-day— So all my jolly comrades say: They bring me music, wreaths, and… And ask to celebrate my birth: Little, alas! my comrades know

The merchant, to secure his treasu… Conveys it in a borrowed name: Euphelia serves to grace my measur… But Cloe is my real flame. My softest verse, my darling lyre

When crowding folks, with strange… Were making legs, and begging plac… And some with patents, some with m… Tired out my good Lord Dorset’s s… Sneaking I stood amongst the crew…

Tune. - ‘King John and the Abbot… I sing not old Jason who travell’… To kiss the fair maids and possess… Nor sing I AEneas, who, led by h… Got rid of one wife and went far f…

Let 'em Censure: what care I? The Herd of Criticks I defie. Let the Wretches know, I write Regardless of their Grace, or Spi… No, no: the Fair, the Gay, the Y…

Is it, O love, thy want of eyes, Or by the Fates decreed, That hearts so seldom sympathise, Or for each other bleed? If thou wouldst make two youthful…

As the Chameleon, who is known To have no colours of his own, But borrows from his neighbour’s h… His white or black, his green or b… And struts as much in ready light,

While with labour assiduous due pl… And in one day atone for the busin… In a little Dutch chaise, on a Sa… On my left hand my Horace, a W* o… No memoirs to compose, and no post…

Well, I will never more complain, Or call the Fates unkind; Alas! how fond it is, how vain! But self-conceitedness does reign I nevery mortal mind.