#Irish
This House and Inhabitants both w… And resemble each other as near ca… One half is decay’d, and in want o… The other new built, but not finis…
Thou soft Engager of my tender ye… Divertive verse now come & eas… The Rake has wine the aged knave… Of what his death bed Charity wil… to lay his cares & mine are la…
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…
Thyrsis, a young and am’rous Swai… Saw two, the Beauties of the Plai… Who both his Heart subdue: Gay Cælia’s Eyes were dazzling fa… Sabina’s easy Shape and Air
The Persians us’d at setting of y… To howl, as if he nere again shoul… They onely acted it but we indeed Must doot for all that lovely was… all that was great good Just &…
Health & advice an old acquain… Health & advice, the wish &… Tis fitt I teach the templar how… Who teaches me with temperance to… Be still then murmuring Clients f…
Phillis I long yr powr have ownd & you still gently swayd Now nature has yr charms dethrond & time your chain decayd Both are wth such perversness curs…
The Man whose Judgement Joynd wi… The lives of Popes & lives of… Who sung true Pleasure showd ye G… And taught Wild Youth to shun ye… Who wrote all this—Who more than…
Upon a time, and in a place, With Pan Apollo playd, Grave Midas sat to Judge ye case, And Pan ye Victour made. The Rustick to his Fauns withdrew…
My days have been so wondrous free… The little birds that fly With careless ease from tree to tr… Were but as bless’d as I. Ask gliding waters, if a tear
Alas will nothing do, Nothing arrest the arm of Death Must learning, sence, nay virtue t… Must these or. real blessings go like all things else beneath?
The morning opens very freshly gay And life itself is in the month of… With green my fancy paints an arbo… And flowrets with a thousand colou… Then falls to weaving that, and sp…
One authour has anothers head begu… Lett no man say it might be better… For since they both are Witts Ime… To find he has not drawn him twice…
Compassion checks my spleen, yet… The tears a passage thro’ my swell… To laugh or weep at sins, might id… Unheedful passion, or unfruitful w… Satyr! arise, and try thy sharper…
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…
