All are not born to soar-and ah! how few All that thou dost be right-to that alone confine thy view. All things decay with time: the forest sees All wives are bad-yet two blest hours they give A lord of senatorial fame A lover once of the Septembrian juice A maid of bronze am Î, and here will stand A man was about to hang himself A mechanic his labour will often discard A minister's answer is always so kind. A shepherdess who long had kept her flocks As in smooth oil the razor best is whet. As virgin lilies pluck'd from off their stems At Bristol, Tom from the Mayor's feast was led At Fate's approach, see Oroonoko moan At length must Suffolk's beauties shine in vain A virtuoso friend, a man of worth A Welshman and an Englishman disputed Anon. Anon. Mansel Young Martyn Whaley Anon. A sage of old hath gravely said A Sage to whom all learned lore was dear 591 553 372 523 375 579 556 Beneath a myrtle Cupid lay. Beneath, a sleeping infant lies Beneath these moss-grown roots, this rustic cell Beneath this flowery mound she rests, whose zone. Beneath this marble stone here lies Be not dismaide, though crosses cast thee downe Be this dark spot for ever to verdure unknown Bewail not much, my parents! me, the prey Blest in thy spirit, in thy husband blest see • Bloomfield, thy happy-omen'd name Blow, winter wind, these desert rocks around Books take their doom from each peruser's will Bright martial maid, queen of the frozen zone But borne, and like a short delight Butler in clearness and in force surpass'd But one bright eye young Acon's face adorns By fashion led, I spent my life at ease By her talent a secret will Celia discover By hostile spears borne down brave Lycus falls 531 . 205 . 159 347 . 182 353 47 638 128 . 402 . 612 . 121 2 10 . 332 . 118 . 268 Angerianus Celia her sex's foible shuns Bishop 142 Celsus takes off by dint of skill Censure no more the hand of Death Charm'd with the empty sound of pompous words Cheat not yourselves as most; who then prepare Ci gît Piron, qui ne fut rien. Circles are praised, not that abound Close to her husband, Frances join'd once more "Come kiss me!" said Colin. I gently said "No Come, Lesbian maids, to blue-eyed Juno's shrine Come, stretch thy limbs beneath these shady trees. Contemplate when the sun declines Contempt is loathsome; glorious 'tis to sway Could our first father, at his toilsome plough Cropt by th' untimely hand of death, here lies Crossing o'er the South Sea in the late stormy weather Cruel Amynta, can you see Cumaan sybils could not more descry Cum Sapiente Pius nostras juravit in aras Dacus doth daily to his doctor go. Dear Bell, to gain money, sure, silence is best Dear Duby! I've pleaded in vain for your crime Dear Lyce, thou art wond'rous thin Dear Sim, by wits extoll'd, by wits cried down Deep, deep, in Sandy's blundering head. C. H. Williams 389 |