Why will you my passion reprove? Why term it a folly to grieve? Ere I shew you the charms of my l… She is fairer than you can believe… With her mien she enamours the bra…

Ye gentle Nymphs and generous Dam… That rule o’er every British mind… Be sure ye soothe their amorous fl… Be sure your laws are not unkind: For hard it is to wear their bloom

’Twas in a land of learning, The Muse’s favourite city, Such pranks of late Were play’d by a rat, As-tempt one to be witty.

Why mourns my friend? why weeps hi… That eye where mirth, where fancy,… Thy cheerful meads reprove that sw… Spring ne’er enamell’d fairer mead… Art thou not lodged in Fortune’s…

If proud Pygmalion quit his cumbr… Funereal pomp the scanty tear supp… Whilst heralds loud, with venal vo… Lo! here the brave and the puissan… When humbler Alcon leaves his dro…

On fair Asteria’s blissful plains… Where ever-blooming fancy reigns, How pleased we pass the winter’s d… And charm the dull-eyed Spleen aw… No linnet, from the leafless bough…

Born near the scene for Kenelm’s… I take my plaintive reed, and rang… And raise my lay, and bid the rock… The savage force of empire, and of… Fast by the centre of yon various…

Yes, these are the scenes where wi… But short was her sway for so love… In the bloom of her youth to a clo… In the bloom of her graces too fai… Ill-grounded, no doubt, a devotion…

Through the dim veil of evening’s… Near some lone fane, or yew’s fune… What dreary forms has magic Fear… What shrouded spectres Superstiti… But you, secure, shall pour your s…

How blithely pass’d the summer’s d… How bright was every flower! While friends arrived in circles g… To visit Damon’s bower! But now, with silent step I range

Servum si potes, Ole, non habere, Et regem potes, Ole, non habere.… ('If thou from Fortune dost no se… Believe me thou no master need’st… I ask’d a friend, amidst the thron…

The morn dispensed a dubious light… A sudden mist had stolen from sigh… Each pleasing vale and hill; When Damon left his humble bowers… To guard his flocks, to fence his…

The fatal hours are wondrous near, That from these fountains bear my… A little space is given; in vain She robs my sight, and shuns the p… A little space, for me to prove

’Tis by comparison we know On every object to bestow Its proper share of praise Did each alike perfection bear, What beauty, though divinely fair,

DECLINING AN INVITAT… While others, lost to friendship,… Waste their best minutes on a fore… Be mine, with British nymph or sw… And court the Genius of my native…