Far in a wild, unknown to public v… From youth to age a rev’rend hermi… The moss his bed, the cave his hum… His food the fruits, his drink the… Remote from man, with God he pass…

Gay Bacchus liking B—s wine A noble meal bespoke & for ye guests that were to d… Brought Comus Love & Joke The God near Cupid drew his chair

Just when ye dead of night began t… & boding visions senceless dre… Methought a matron stood beside my… Upon her face a wondrous sweetness… & pointed Glorys dressd the mo…

Some ages has the stage triumphant… and vice in masquerade debauchd th… In charming numbers, all bewitchin… has the gay syren drest to steal o… like undesigning pleasure she appe…

Beauty rests not in one fix’d Pla… But seems to reign in every Face; ’Tis nothing sure, but Fancy then… In various Forms bewitching Men; Or is it Shape and Colour fram’d,

& tis too true alass! we find,… Virtue from earth a second time is… She onely then with her two sister… But now since he, what ere were go… Uncertain where to fix, in him the…

Vast was his soul some favorite ab… Whose bolder pencil made a boy of… A boy he thought him lovers less t… Who barter all things for a crop o… He wisely too his roving pow’r bes…

In Biddy’s Cheeks ye roses blow In Cattys nose they rise From Biddys lips soft accents flo… And streams from Catty’s Eyes The jet that Biddy’s brows displa…

Gays gon out early, how comes it t… Not that he has buisness, but thin…

Arise my soul & hast away Thy god doth call & canst thou… Thee to his table he invites To tast of heavenly delights He sufferd death to sett thee free

He. When first my Biddy love prof… My rapture ran so high Not Gentle S—s fondly prest To beautious G—s panting breast Was half so blest as I

Is Viner Dead? and shall each Mu… Silent as Death, and as his Music… Shall he depart without a poet’s… Who oft to Harmony has tun’d thei… Shall he, who knew the Elegance o…

Now Crowds more off, retiring tru… On Eccho’s dying in their last re… The notes of fancy seem no longer… But sweetning closes fitt a privat… So when the storms forsake ye seas…

Oft have I read that Innocence re… Where cooling streams salute ye su… Singing at ease she roves ye field… Or safe with shepheards lys among… But late alas I crossd a country…

In Phœbus Wit (as Ovid said) Enchanting Beauty woo’d; In Daphne Beauty coily fled, While vainly Wit pursu’d. But when you trace what Ovid writ…