Come gentle Air! th' AEolian shepherd said, While Procris panted in the secret shade: Come, gentle Air, the fairer Delia cries, While at her feet her swain expiring lies....
O gate, how cam'st thou here? Gate. I was brought from Chelsea last year, Batter'd with wind and weather. Inigo Jones put me together; Sir Hans Sloane Let me alone: Burlington brought me hither.
Thou who shalt stop, where Thames' translucent wave Shines a broad Mirror thro' the shadowy Cave; Where ling'ring drops from min'ral Roofs distill, And pointed Crystals break the sparkling Rill,...
Thou who shalt stop, where Thames' translucent wave Shines a broad mirror through the shadowy cave; Where lingering drops from mineral roofs distil, And pointed crystals break the sparkling rill,...
So bright is thy beauty, so charming thy song, As had drawn both the beasts and their Orpheus along: But such is thy avarice, and such is thy pride, That the beasts must have starved, and the poet have died.
To wake the soul by tender strokes of art, To raise the genius, and to mend the heart; To make mankind, in conscious virtue bold, Live o'er each scene, and be what they behold:...
To wake the soul by tender strokes of art, To raise the genius, and to mend the heart; To make mankind, in conscious virtue bold, Live o'er each scene, and be what they behold:...
Authors are judged by strange capricious rules; The great ones are thought mad, the small ones fools: Yet sure the best are most severely fated; For fools are only laugh'd at, wits are hated....
Roxana, from the Court returning late, Sigh'd her soft sorrow at St James's gate: Such heavy thoughts lay brooding in her breast, Not her own chairmen with more weight oppress'd:...
Say, lovely youth, that dost my heart command, Can Phaon's eyes forget his Sappho's hand? Must then her name the wretched writer prove, To thy remembrance lost, as to thy love?...
What, and how great, the virtue and the art To live on little with a cheerful heart; (A doctrine sage, but truly none of mine) Let's talk, my friends, but talk before we dine;...
True ease in writing comes from art, not chance, As those move easiest who have learned to dance. 'Tis not enough no harshness gives offense, The sound must seem an echo to the sense:...
A Shepherd's Boy (he seeks no better name) Led forth his flocks along the silver Thame, Where dancing sun-beams n the waters play'd, And verdant alders form'd a quiv'ring shade....