I read in your delighted Face, The Nuptial Bands are ty’d: From me congratulate her Grace, Young Portland’s lovely Bride. Tell her, an humble, artless Muse

In vain you shew a happy Nation, The Gospel’s gracious Dispensatio… And plead from thence, to bring up… To early Piety and Truth. To unattentive Ears you preach,

Should you employ your Ridicule, On those who Pity claim? Think, Birtha, is the native Fool For Wit a proper Theme? On Vice your hum’rous Vein displa…

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,

Celia, when you oblige again. Subdue that haughty Eye: Rather than Insolence fustain, Who would not wish to die? A grateful Heart will own the Deb…

No more at Criticks, Ned, repine, Who say those Numbers are not thi… I own I was suspicious too, And thought the Verse too good fo… But since you say those Lines you…

Written when the Author was sick. Somnus, pow’rful Deity, Mortals owe their Bliss to thee. How long shall I thy Absence mour… And when be bless’d in thy Return…

Dear Jack, whilst you thro’ Fland… Can you forget your Friends at Ho… Say, will your Tutors give you Ti… To write to Hereticks in Rhyme? A Name they brand us with, dear Y…

So Ceres, lovely and divine, Eager to see her Proserpine, Blessing the Nations as she pass’… Reach’d the fell Tyrant’s Court a… Around her shot a Gleam of Light,

Children are snatch’d away sometim… To punish Parents for their Crime… Thy Mother’s Merit was so great, Heav’n hasten’d thy untimely Fate… To make her Character complete.

A courtier, summon’d hence of late… Was call’d to Minos’ Judgment Se… The Cretan Sage began the Charge… Recounted all his Crimes at large… His Insincerity, and Pride,

Were Princes grac’d with Souls li… Princes had still been deem’d divi… Such Merit as we find in thee, First introduc’d Idolatry; When an excelling Form and Mind,

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,

You say ’tis hard to copy well, Where Nature does herself excel. Allow’d—yet still let me advise: Near as you can, to Nature rise; Nor Time, nor Colours will be los…

Where—e’er you go, some Actions s… Which make the Goodness of your M… Hibernia early saw those Seeds of… In your fair Breast, which now sh… Foresaw the Hopes you gave, matur…