Sannazarius
Savage
R. Fletcher
Anon.
Dioscorides
Ariphron
Jeffreys.
Huddesford

Fair Nature's sweet simplicity

Fair, rich, and young! how rare is her perfection
Falleris hac qui te pingi sub imagine credis
False is the tale; a hero never dies
Fame I am called, marvel you nothing.
Fame, register of Time

Fame says, Pope Julius once the sword did wield
Farewell, great painter of mankind

Farewell, sweet boy! and farewell all in thee
Farewell, thou child of my right hand and joy
Farewell to wine! or if thou bid me sip
Far from Tarentum's native soil I lie
Far happier are the dead, methinks, than they
Far in a savage Cappadocian dell
Far in the bosom of the deep
Fear no more Love's shafts, for he
Fear not, my dear, a flame can never die
Feed, gentle swain, thy cattle far away.
Few were Erinna's words, and brief her lays
Fie, Bozzy! hector, and talk big

Fill high the bowl with sparkling wine
Fine lectures Attalus rehearses

First Carlton House, my country friend
First in the list behold the caustic Dean
Flam to my face is oft too kind

Flavia the least and slightest toy.

Flint dream'd he gave a feast, 'twas regal fare
Folly is not feign'd, nor with false wit lies
Fond Progne, chattering wretch

Fond Vulgar, canst thou think it strange to find
Fools, not to know that half exceeds the whole
Forbear, sweet girl, your scheme forego.
Forbear to tempt me, Proule, I will not show
Forbear to weep where Poussin's ashes lie
For ever dear, for ever dreaded Prince
Forgive, blest shade, the tributary tear.
For Greece and glory they who lie beneath
For me the Roman circus echo'd lo its height.
For me thy wrinkles have more charms
For Phoebus' aid my voice I raise.
For Tully late a tomb I gan prepare
Fortune, men say, doth give too much to many
Found dead, a rat-no case could sure be harder
Four Forgers, born in one prolific age
Four shillings in the pound we see
Fraternal love in such strong currents runs
Freed from the toils of war, and long distress
Freedom's charms alike engage
Freind, for your epitaphs I'm grieved
Frenchmen, no more with Britons vie
Fresh rising from the ocean foam.
Fret not, my friend, and peevish say
Friend, Ortho of Syracuse gives thee this charge
Friends are like melons. Shall I tell you why?
Friend W-n! if you would get rid of a scold
From ancient custom 'tis (they say)
From flow'r to flow'r, with eager pains.
From God they came, to God they went again
From Leadenhall the reasons (raisins) come
From mortal hands my being I derive
From Rufa's eye sly Cupid shot his dart

Lyttelton

352

Vulto
Garrick

159

414

5:22

193

G)

101

Lucillius.

Martiol.

Paulus Silentiarius

63

566

Anacreon

131

384

Martial

Lucillius

48

Hark how chimes the passing bell

Gallus would make me heir, but suddenly
Garrow forbear! that tough old jade
Gay Bassus, for ten thousand bought

Gazing on thee, sweet maid! all things I see

Gellia the hangman doth, not doctor choose
Gift of the Hero, on his dying day

Gil's history appears to me

Give but Cupid's dart to me.

Give me three kisses, Phillis; if not three
God and a soldier all people adore

God bless the King, I mean the Faith's Defender
Goddess who shunn'st the cottage gate.
God has to me sufficiently been kind

God is best pleas'd, when men forsake their sin
God of hearts, prithee begone

God said, "Let there be light"-and lo
Good friend, for Jesus' sake forbear

Good friend, this message to my owner bear
Good health for mortal man is best
Good unexpected, evil unforseen
Good wine; a friend; or being dry
Go-you may call it madness, folly
Grateful is sleep-but more to be of stone
Great Bacchus, born in thunder and in fire
Great Chatham, who from humbled France
Great! Good! and Just! Could I but rate
Great Homer's birth sev'n rival cities claim
Great Pompey's ashes in vile Egypt lie
Greece boasts her Homer, Rome her Virgil's name
Greece justly boasts her Homer's mighty name

Had Cowley ne'er spoke, Killigrew ne'er writ
Had Marlborough's troops in Gaul no better fought
Had this fair form the nimic art displays
Hail, great in war! all hail, by glory cherish'd
Hail, beav'nly Pair! by whose conspiring aid
Hail, Niobe! Unbind thy braided hair

Hail! thou first sacrifice in th' martyrs' roll.
Half of my soul yet breathes: the rest.
Hal's blamed for not leading a soberer life
Hang it cries Hearne, in furious fret
Happy, oh happy he who, not affecting.

Hark! she's not marble, with gentle heaving

Harpalus to the poor his wealth would leave.

Harp, that did'st soothe my cares, when opening
life.

Haste to Clarinda, and reveal

Hast'ning to battle, betray'd by thy friends
Hast thou a friend? thou hast indeed
Health, rose-lipp'd cherub, haunts this spot

He bath'd with us, brisk; and he supp'd with us,

Martial.

Rogers
R. Heath
Herrick

Paschasius

Simonides

Byrom

590

Lucianus

541

Anon.
Jonson

147

458

R. West.

Here from the hand of genius, meets your eye
Here, happy Doctor, take this sonnet
Here, here she lies, a budding rose
Here in his dirt lies poor old Demetriades
Here innocence and beauty lies, whose breath
Here learn, from moral truth and wit refin'd
Here lies a babe, that only cried

Here lies a Doctor of Divinity
Here lies a man who in his life

Here lies a miser, who, beside

Here lies an honest man! without pretence
Here lies an old soldier whom all must applaud
Here lies a Scot of reputation

Here lies a wife was chaste, a mother blest
Here lies, aye, here doth lie, mort-bleu.

Here lies a youth (ah, wherefore breathless lies!)
Here lies a youth whose lofty rhyme

Here lies Dean Donne: enough; those words alone
Here lies he, whom the tyrant's rage

Here lies his parents' hopes and fears

Here lies in repose, after great deeds of blood

Here lies John of Mirandola; what else there is to
tell.

Here lies Jonson with the rest

Here lies King Henry 11., who many realms
Here lies Lord Coningsby; be civil
Here lies my wife; and Heaven knows.
Here lies Prince Henry, I dare say no more
Here lies Sir Horatio Palavozeene
Here lies the author of the "Apparition"
Here lies the best and worst of Fate
Here lies the father of taxation

Here lies the Jew

Here lies the Lyric, who with tale and song
Here lies Timocreon: were his deeds supplied
Here lies to each her parents' ruth
Here lieth one that once was born and cried
"Here lieth one whose name was writ on water!
Here Molière lies, the Roscius of his age
Here Ninon lies buried, who always aspired
Here o'er the tomb where Dealtry's ashes sleep
Here plac'd near Chaucer, Spenser claims a room
Here quench your thirst, and mark in me
Here Raphael lies, by whose untimely end

Here Raphael lies. While he lived, Nature's dread
Here rests a poet of no vulgar name
Here rests a woman, good without pretence
Here rests Myrilio's drunken wife

Here rests the Hero, who in glory's page
Here Rogers sat, and here for ever dwell
Here she lies a pretty bud

Here, shunning idleness at once and praise
Here sleeps a daughter by her mother's side
Here sleep, whom neither life, nor love.
Here strive for empire, o'er the happy scene
Here the shrewd physiognomist Eusthenes lies
Here Wesley lies in quiet rest

Here, who but once in 's life did thirst, doth lie
Her father dead!—Alone, no grief she knows

PAGE

Her honour and her freedom sav'd.
Hermes the volatile, Arcady's president
Hermit hoar, in solemn cell.

Heroes and kings! your distance keep
Her trophies faded, and revers'd her spear
Her virgin zone unloosed, Cleara's charms
Her wit and beauty for a court were made

He strives for more, though he his thousands touch
He that hath such acuteness and such wit
He was and is (see then where lies the odds).
He, who his wealth to generous ends applies.
He whose left arm loaden with books you see
He wrongs the dead who thinks this marble frame.
Hey, Giles in what new garb art dress'd
Hic conjuncta suo recubat Francisca marito
Hid lies the nymph from whom this bounty flows
His accounts honest John hath now settled with
fate.

His country's muses join with those of Greece
His foes, when dead great Atterbury lay

His last great debt is paid-poor Tom's no more
His Life is lifeless, and his Death shall die
His lordship's mornings were in hurry spent.
His valour's proofe, his manlie virtue's prayse
"Hoa there! Who art thou? Answer me. Art
dumb?"

Homer, though blind, yet saw with his soul's eye
Hope, heav'n-born cherub, still appears
How apt are men to lie! how dare they say
How Arts improve in this aspiring age.

How calm, how bland, appears the moon above us.
How can I choose but like Mount Etna glow.
How comes it, Perrault, I would gladly know
How comes it, Sleep, that thou

How differs, I pray, the Physician's part

How do I thank thee, Death, and bless thy power
How falsely does Dorinda's glass

How fine the illusion! Bramarbas breath'd shorter
How fitly join'd the lawyer and his wife
How ill the motion with the music suits
How little grief thy father's ashes claim
How many between east and west

How much are they deceiv'd who vainly strive
How often, Lycid, shall I bathe with tears
How strangely Providence its ways conceals
How sweetly careless Delia seems

How the best state to know ?-it is found out
How wretched does Prometheus' state appear
Hunt not, fish not, shoot not

I am called Childhood, in play is all my mind

I am his Highness' dog at Kew

I am the man who made a prey to grief.

I am the tomb of Crethon: here you read

"I am unable," yonder beggar cries

I and Time 'gainst any two

Ianthe took me by both ears and said

I asked my fair one happy day

I ask no grave beneath the British sod

I cannot see the Speaker! Hal, can you?
"Ici l'on rajeunit!"-"Tis true

I dare not trust my pen it trembles so

I die well paid, whilst my expiring breath
Idly-busy squirrel, say.