Now Crowds more off, retiring tru… On Eccho’s dying in their last re… The notes of fancy seem no longer… But sweetning closes fitt a privat… So when the storms forsake ye seas…

In vain, poor Nymph, to please ou… You sleep in cream and frontlets a… Your face with patches soil, with… Dress with gay gowns, and shade wi… If truth in spight of manners must…

Art thou alive? It cannot be, There’s so much Rottenness in The… Corruption only is in Death; And what’s more Putrid than thy B… Think not you Live, because you S…

The greatest Gifts that Nature do… Can’t unassisted to Perfection gr… A scanty Fortune clips the Wings… And checks the Progress of a risi… Each dastard Vertue drags a Capti…

Oft have I read that Innocence re… Where cooling streams salute ye su… Singing at ease she roves ye field… Or safe with shepheards lys among… But late alas I crossd a country…

A Beavy of the fair & Gay, Such as are daily Smoakt in tea, & toasted over wine, Vext to be made so long the Jeast Of tongues & pens, to go in qu…

The Father lying in Bed hugging in his left arm a pot of Mony & laying severall pieces out of it before him. the son sitts at his feet in the habit of a souldier taking with his rig...

The Man whose mind & actions… Can bravely triumph ore ye thought… He who unaltered fortunes Changes… Without elated or dejected lookes With a fixd carriage & undaunt…

Here Great Erasmus resteth all of… That Death can touch or Monument… Thy Hope and Virtue soard ye loft… Round ye wide world thy Fame &amp… Those meet rewards above and these…

A thoughtful Being, long and spar… Our Race of Mortals call him Car… (Were Homer living, well he knew What Name the Gods have call’d hi… With fine Mechanick Genius wrough…

Grant heav’n that I may chuse my… If you design me worldly Happines… Tis not Honour thats but air Glory has but fancied light Fame as oft speak’s false as right

My days have been so wondrous free… The little birds that fly With careless ease from tree to tr… Were but as bless’d as I. Ask gliding waters, if a tear

Mourn widdowd Iland, Mourn, your… Mourn ye unhappy flocks your Shea… Around your grief in dolefull stra… & Lett ym in sad Eccho’s dy a… As sympathising wth their masters…

When Pop’ry s arbitrary yoak Britannia feard of late To liberty Religion spoke To save ye sinking state Joy of the World the Goddess said

Young Philomela’s powrfull dart Two gentle shepheard’s hitt With Beauty touchd Amintors heart Celadons with witt The Rivall swains on either side