Pallas grew vapourish once, and od… She would not do the least right t… Either for goddess, or for god, Nor work, nor play, nor paint, nor… Jove frown’d, and, ‘Use,’ he crie…

When simple Macer, now of high re… First fought a Poet’s Fortune in… 'Twas all th’ Ambition his high s… To wear red stockings, and to dine… Some Ends of verse his Betters mi…

See what delights in sylvan scenes… Descending Gods have found Elysiu… In woods bright Venus with Adonis… And chaste Diana haunts the fores… Come lovely nymph, and bless the s…

'Tis hard to say, if greater want… Appear in writing or in judging il… But, of the two, less dang’rous is… To tire our patience, than mislead… Some few in that, but numbers err…

Tho’ Artemisia talks, by fits, Of councils, classics, fathers, wi… Reads Malbranche, Boyle, and Loc… Yet in some things methinks she fa… 'Twere well if she would pare her…

Of gentle Philips will I ever sin… With gentle Philips shall the val… My numbers too for ever will I va… With gentle Budgell and with gent… Or if in ranging of the names I j…

Lycidas. Thyrsis, the music of that murm’ri… Is not so mournful as the strains… Nor rivers winding thro’ the vales… So sweetly warble, or so smoothly…

Ye shades, where sacred truth is s… Groves, where immortal Sages taug… Where heav’nly visions of Plato f… And Epicurus lay inspir’d! In vain your guiltless laurels sto…

Nothing so true as what you once l… “Most Women have no Characters at… Matter too soft a lasting mark to… And best distinguish’d by black, b… How many pictures of one nymph we…

Vital spark of heav’nly flame! Quit, O quit this mortal frame: Trembling, hoping, ling’ring, flyi… O the pain, the bliss of dying! Cease, fond Nature, cease thy str…

To one fair lady out of Court, And two fair ladies in, Who think the Turk and Pope a spo… And wit and love no sin! Come, these soft lines, with nothi…

The Mighty Mother, and her son wh… The Smithfield muses to the ear o… I sing. Say you, her instruments… Called to this work by Dulness, J… You by whose care, in vain decried…

Learn then what morals critics oug… For 'tis but half a judge’s task,… ‘Tis not enough, taste, judgment,… In all you speak, let truth and ca… That not alone what to your sense…

Phryne had talents for mankind, Open she was, and unconfin’d, Like some free port of trade: Merchants unloaded here their frei… And Agents from each foreign stat…

Descend ye Nine! descend and sing… The breathing instruments inspire, Wake into voice each silent string… And sweep the sounding lyre! In a sadly—pleasing strain