’Tis Time to conclude; for I make… To leave off all Writing, when Co… He dislikes what I’ve written, an… To send what he calls a poetical… To this I reply’d, You are out of…

I grieve to see you waste your Ti… And turn your Thoughts so much to… Be wise—your useless Views resign… And fly the fair, delusive Nine. I know, they try their wonted Art…

With Joy your Summons we obey, And come to celebrate this Day. Yet I, alas! despair to please; For you require exalted Lays: And, let me write whate’er I will…

Eternal King, is there one Hour, To make me greatly bless’d? When shall I have it in my Pow’r To succour the Distress’d? In vain, alas! my Heart o’erflows

For give me, fair One, nor resent The Lines to you I lately sent. They seem, as if your Form you pr… And ev’ry other Gift despis’d: When a discerning Eye may find,

A mother, who vast Pleasure finds In modelling her Childrens Minds; With whom, in exquisite Delight, She passes many a Winter Night; Mingles in ev’ry Play, to find

WHAT is it our mamma’s bewitches… To plague us little boys with bree… To tyrant Custom we must yield, Whilst vanquish’d Reason flies th… Our legs must suffer by ligation,

Goddess of Health, where—e’er you… To Philomela fly; O hasten from your rural Cell, Nor let the Fair one die. Again her Voice divine restore,

’Tis said, for ev’ry common Grief The Muses can afford Relief: And, surely, on that heav’nly Tra… A Boyle can never call in vain. Then strait invoke the sacred Nin…

Your Wine, by Southern Suns refi… Is a just Emblem of your Mind: Like You, the gen’rous Juice disp… Its Influence a thousand Ways; Like You, it raises sinking Heart…

Let Others speak your Titles, and… Accept from Me the glorious Name… This Honour only from fair Virtue… Ennobles Slaves, adds Dignity to… O Born to shew Nobility design’d

A Curious Statue, we are told, Is priz’d above its Weight in Gol… If the fair Form the Hand confess Of Phidias, or Praxiteles: But if the Artist could inspire

Tho’ great Longinus claims thy ai… And hopes, thro’ thee, t’instruct… Where vile Conceits the Pow’r of… And true Sublimity is lost in Sou… Where Folly, dress’d ten thousand…

An Oak, with spreading Branches c… Beheld an Ivy on the Ground, Expos’d to ev’ry trampling Beast, That roam’d around the dreary Was… The Tree of Jove, in all his Sta…

O Charlotte, truly pious, early w… The Pleasures sought by others, y… Nor Bath, nor Bath’s Allurements… Unmov’d, you quit them to the Gay… But tho’ nor Health, nor Pleasure…