So dear my Lucio is to me, So well our minds and tempers blen… That seasons may for ever flee, And ne’er divide me from my friend… But let the favour’d boy forbear

My banks they are furnish’d with b… Whose murmur invites one to sleep; My grottos are shaded with trees, And my hills are white-over with s… I seldom have met with a loss,

Servum si potes, Ole, non habere, Et regem potes, Ole, non habere.… ('If thou from Fortune dost no se… Believe me thou no master need’st… I ask’d a friend, amidst the thron…

Ah! ego non aliter tristes evincer… Optarem, quam te sic quoque velle… On every tree, in every plain, I trace the jovial spring in vain; A sickly langour veils mine eyes,

Why o’er the verdant banks of Ous… Does yonder Halcyon speed so fast… ’Tis all because she would not los… Her favourite calm, that will not… The sun with azure paints the skie…

Ye shepherds give ear to my lay, And take no more heed of my sheep: They have nothing to do but to str… I have nothing to do but to weep. Yet do not my folly reprove;

Thou sacred nymph! whose pious car… Pours from thine urn this mineral… Whose healing draughts, like cryst… In pleasing murmurs here distil. Who guid’st the stream, and joy’st…

Hail curious Wights! to whom so f… The form of mortal flies is! Who deem those grubs beyond compar… Which common sense despises. Whether o’er hill, morass or mound…

To Mr. Graves, 1745. Ah me! what envious magic thins my… What mutter’d spell retards their… Such lessening fleeces must the sw… That e’er with Doric pipe essays…

No more the Muse obtrudes her thi… No more with awkward fallacy compl… How every fervour from my bosom fl… And Reason in her lonesome palace… Ere the chill winter of our days a…

Auditæ voces, vagitus et ingens, Infantunque animæ flentes in limine primo. Virg.ADVERTISEMENT What particulars in Spenser were imagined most proper for the author’s imitationon this oc...

—Melius, bunny venerit ipsa, canem… —Virg. Imitation. His wish’d-for presence will impro… Too long a stranger to repose,

What village but has sometimes see… The clumsy shape, the frightful mi… Tremendous claws, and shagged hair Of that grim brute yclept a bear? He from his dam the learn’d agree,

Why droops this heart with fancied… Why sinks my soul beneath this win… What pensive crowds, by ceaseless… What myriads, wish to be as blesse… What though my roofs, devoid of po…

Ask not the cause why this rebelli… Loads with fresh curses thy detest… Ask not, thus branded in my softes… Why stands the flatter’d name, whi… ’Tis not, that in my shed I lurk…