With kind compassion hear my cry O Jesu, Lord of life, on high! As when the Summer’s seasons beat With scorching flame and parching… The trees are burnt, the flowers f…

To praise, and still with just res… A Bard triumphant in immortal bay… The Learn’d to show, the Sensible… Yet still preserve the province of… What life, what vigour must the li…

Alas will nothing do, Nothing arrest the arm of Death Must learning, sence, nay virtue t… Must these or. real blessings go like all things else beneath?

Hail to the sacred silence of this… Hail to the greens below the green… Oft have I found beneath these sh… A reall in imaginary bliss for they my fancy sooth she’s a c…

When rosy-finger’d Morn had ting’… Around their Monarch-Mouse the N… Slow rose the Monarch, heav’d his… And thus, the Council fill’d with… For lost Psycarpax much my Soul e…

As Celia with her Sparrow playd She took a glass unseen Her mouth she filld & while he billd She spirts ye liquor in

Hark the thundring Drums inviting All our forward youth to arms Hark the trumpets sounds exciting Manly Soules with fierce alarms Peace affords an Idle pleasure

Ye Wives who scold fishes sell, Or sing sell your fruit, I want a wondrous thing to tell, Then (if you can) be mute. From some of You one Homer came,

To stifle Passion is no easy Thin… A Heart in Love is always on the… The bold Betrayer flutters still, And fans the Breath prepar’d to t… It melts the Tongue, and tunes th…

The morning opens very freshly gay And life itself is in the month of… With green my fancy paints an arbo… And flowrets with a thousand colou… Then falls to weaving that, and sp…

Compassion checks my spleen, yet… The tears a passage thro’ my swell… To laugh or weep at sins, might id… Unheedful passion, or unfruitful w… Satyr! arise, and try thy sharper…

Is virtue something reall here bel… Or but an Idle name & empty s… While on this head I take my thou… Methinks young Freedom answers wt… In his own moralls thus the Spark…

To friend with fingers quick &… I send this piece of tunefull timb… that, as ’tis said in Orpheus stor… He may teach trees to dance a Bor… Or else in modern Phrase more kna…

Blessed Light of saints on high Who fill the mansions of the sky, Sure defence, whose mercy still Preserves thy subjects here from i… O my Jesus! make me know

He. When first my Biddy love prof… My rapture ran so high Not Gentle S—s fondly prest To beautious G—s panting breast Was half so blest as I