But in her Temple's last recess inclos'd, On Dulness' lap th' Anointed head repos'd. Him close she curtains round with Vapours blue, And soft besprinkles with Cimmerian dew....
Yet, yet a moment, one dim ray of light Indulge, dread Chaos, and eternal Night! Of darkness visible so much be lent, As half to show, half veil, the deep intent. Ye pow'rs! whose mysteries restor'd I sing,...
She said, and for her lost Galanthis sighs; When the fair consort of her son replies: 'Since you a servant's ravish'd form bemoan, And kindly sigh for sorrows not your own,...
She said, and for her lost Calanthis sighs, When the fair Consort of her son replies. "Since you a servant's ravish'd form bemoan, And kindly sigh for sorrows not your own;...
St John, whose love indulged my labours past, Matures my present, and shall bound my last! Why will you break the Sabbath of my days? Now sick alike of envy and of praise....
Say, St John, who alone peruse With candid eye the mimic Muse, What schemes of politics, or laws, In Gallic lands the patriot draws! Is then a greater work in hand, Than all the tomes of Haines's band?...
He said, and pass'd with sad presaging heart To seek his spouse, his soul's far dearer part; At home he sought her, but he sought in vain: She, with one maid of all her menial train,...
Soon as Glumdalclitch miss'd her pleasing care, She wept, she blubber'd, and she tore her hair: No British miss sincerer grief has known, Her squirrel missing, or her sparrow flown....
With scornful mien, and various toss of air, Fantastic, vain, and insolently fair, Grandeur intoxicates her giddy brain, She looks ambition, and she moves disdain....
With scornful mien, and various toss of air, Fantastic vain, and insolently fair, Grandeur intoxicates her giddy brain, She looks ambition, and she moves disdain. Far other carriage grac'd her virgin life,...
Ye nymphs of Solyma! begin the song, To heavenly themes sublimer strains belong. The mossy fountains, and the sylvan shades, The dreams of Pindus, and the Aonian maids,...
What dire Offence from am'rous Causes springs, What mighty Contests rise from trivial Things, I sing ' This Verse to C, , Muse! is due; This, ev'n Belinda may vouchfafe to view:...
What dire Offence from am'rous Causes springs, What mighty Contests rise from trivial Things, I sing, This Verse to C---, Muse! is due; This, ev'n Belinda may vouchfafe to view:...