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27

454

410
447

live

Naples, too credulous, ah! boast no more 446
Night! how I love thy silent shades

No longer I follow a sound.
No mischief worthier of our fear
No more shall hapless Celia's ears
None ever shared the social feast
Nor oils of balmy scent produce.
No strength of Nature can suffice
Not a flower can be found in the fields
Obscurest night involved the sky.
Of all the gifts thine hand bestows
Oft we enhance our ills by discontent
O God, whose favourable eye
Oh, fond attempt to give a deathless lot
Oh for a closer walk with God

My pens are all split, and my ink-glass is dry 388
My rose, Gravina, blooms anew
My song shall bless the Lord of all
My soul is sad, and much dismayed
My Spouse! in whose presence
My twofold book! single in show

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35

410

464

My God, till I receive thy stroke
My halting Muse, that dragg'st by choice
along.

My heart is easy, and iny burthen light
My lids with grief were tumid yet

My mother! if thou love me, name no more 507
My name-my country-what are they to
thee?

498

425

See where the Thames, the purest stream. 8
Shall I begin with Ah, or Oh?

21

347

She came she is gone-we have met

315

So then the Vandals of our isle

167

173

34

Oh, loved! but not enough-though dearer
far

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451

320

37

O Love, of pure and heavenly birth

411

O matutini rores, auræque salubres

170

O most delightful hour by man

367

5

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373

On the green margin of the brook
O sovereign of an isle renowned
Other stones the era tell.

• 499
312

Our good old friend is gone, gone to his rest 341
Painter, this likeness is too strong
Patron of all those luckless brains
Pause here, and think: a monitory rhyme 324
Pay me my price, potters! and I will sing. 507
Peace has unveiled her smiling face. . 415
Perfida, crudelis, victa et lymphata furore 335
507
Pity, says the Theban bard
Plangimus fortes.
• 348
Poets attempt the noblest task they can • 375
Poor in my youth, and in life's later scenes 502
Poor Vestris, grieved beyond all measure. 336
Populeæ cecidit gratissima copia silvæ. 323
Praise in old times the sage Prometheus won 445
Quæ lenta accedit, quam velox præterit
hora

That thou mayst injure no nian, dove-like be 497
The astrologers did all alike presage
The Bard, if e'er he feel at all.
The beams of April, ere it goes
The billows swell, the winds are high
The birds put off their every hue.
Thee, whose refulgent staff, and summons
clear.

The fountain in its source
The genius of the Augustan age
The greenhouse is my summer seat.
The lady thus addressed her spouse
The lapse of time and rivers is the same
The Lord proclaims his grace abroad
The Lord receives his highest praise
The Lord will happiness divine
The lover, in melodious verses
The new-born child of Gospel grace
The noon was shady, and soft airs

Sun! stay thy course, this moment stay
Suns that set, and moons that wane.
Survivor soul, and hardly such, of all
Sweet babe, whose image here expressed. 472
Sweet bird, whom the Winter constrains
Sweet stream, that winds through yonder
glade

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351

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475

164

426

man lies.

Thankless for favours from on high

That ocean you of late surveyed

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328