When men exert their utmost pow'rs, To while away the tedious hours, With soothing Flatt'ry's art, When ev'ry art and work well skill'd, And ev'ry look with poison fill'd, Assail a woman's heart, ...
Adieu! dear girl! if we are doom'd to part, Take with thee, take, the blessing of this heart, Due to thy gentle mind, and cultur'd sense; Perhaps 'twill please, but, sure, can't give offence....
These bays be thine; and, tho' not form'd to shine Clear as thy colour, faultless as thy line, Yet shall the Muse essay, in humble verse, Thy merits, lovely Painting! to rehearse....
Oh! form'd to prompt the smile or tear, At once so sweet, yet so severe! As much for you as him I grieve; Ah! thoughtless! if you thus can leave A mind with wit and learning bright,...
Oh! with what genuine pleasure do I trace Each line of that long-lov'd, accustom'd, face, Where Time, as if enchanted, and imprest With all the virtues of thy peaceful breast,...
Dire were the horrors of that ruthless storm, That for young Lycid form'd a wat'ry grave; Oh! many wept to see his fainting form Unaided sink beneath th' o'erwhelming wave. ...
Who supports herself, and an aged and infirm Mother, by selling Stockings and Gloves of her own Knitting, which she offers to Travellers as they pass by; in doing which she has been known to run close by the Side of a Carriage ...
No gentleman of England now sits at home at ease, But emulates on shore the heroes of the seas; A common cause unites them, to meet the daring foe, All they wish, all they ask, is a fav'ring wind to blow. ...
Time, since thou gav'st this flow'r to me, Has often turn'd his glass of sand; Perchance 'tis now unknown to thee That once its breath perfum'd thy hand.