#English
When future ages shall with wonder… These glorious lines which Harley… They shall confess that Britain c… A fairer column to the father’s pr…
Alexis shun’d his Fellow Swains, Their rural Sports, and jocund St… (Heav’n guard us all from Cupid’s… He lost his Crook, He left his F… And wand’ring thro’ the lonely Ro…
Say, sire of insects, mighty Sol, (A fly upon the chariot-pole Cries out) What blue-bottle alive Did ever with such fury drive? Tell Beelzebub, great Father, tel…
Ye careful Angels, whom eternal F… Ordains, on Earth and human Acts… Who turn with secret Pow’r this r… And bid predestin’d Empires rise… Your sacred Aid religious Monarch…
Some kind angel, gently flying, Moved with pity at my pain, Tell Corinna I am dying Till with joy we meet again. Tell Corinna, since we parted
It always has been a thought discr… To know the company you meet; And sure there may be secret dange… In talking much before a stranger. Agreed: what then? Then drink you…
As Nancy at her toilette sat, Admiring this, and blaming that, Tell me, she said, but tell me tru… The nymph who could your heart sub… What sort of charms does she posse…
Haste, my Nannette, My lovely maid, Haste to the bower Thy swain has made. For thee alone
THE merchant, to secure his treas… Conveys it in a borrow’d name: Euphelia serves to grace my measur… But Chloe is my real flame. My softest verse, my darling lyre,
In vain you tell your parting love… You wish fair winds may waft him o… Alas! what winds can happy prove That bear me far from what I love… Alas! what dangers on the main
When Nell, given o’er by the doct… And John at the chimney stood dec… ’Tis in vain said the woman to mak… For to our long home we must all o… True, Nell, replied John; but wha…
Sphinx was a monster that would ea… Whatever stranger she could get, Unless his ready wit disclosed The subtile riddle she proposed. OEdipus was resolved to go
Celia and I the other Day Walk’d o’er the Sand-Hills to the… The setting Sun adorn’d the Coast… His Beams entire, his Fierceness… And, on the Surface of the Deep,
Morella, charming without art, And kind without design, Can never lose the smallest part Of such a heart as mine. Obliged a thousand several ways,
Of thy judicious Muse’s sense, Young Hinchinbroke so very proud… That Sacharissa and Hortense She looks henceforth upon as dowdi… Yet she to one must still submit,