The very reverend Dean Smedley, Of dulness, pride, conceit, a medley, Was equally allow'd to shine As poet, scholar, and divine; With godliness could well dispense, Would be a rake, but wanted sense;...
Illustrious prince, we're come before ye, Who, more than in our founders, glory To be by you protected; Deign to descend and give us laws, For we are converts to your cause,...
Of Chloe all the town has rung, By ev'ry size of poets sung: So beautiful a nymph appears But once in twenty thousand years; By Nature form'd with nicest care, And faultless to a single hair....
DOCTOR. Deaf, giddy, helpless, left alone. ANSWER. Except the first, the fault's your own. DOCTOR. To all my friends a burden grown. ANSWER. Because to few you will be shewn....
That you, friend Marcus, like a stoic, Can wish to die in strains heroic, No real fortitude implies: Yet, all must own, thy wish is wise. Thy curate's place, thy fruitful wife,...
Venus one day, as story goes, But for what reason no man knows, In sullen mood and grave deport, Trudged it away to Jove's high court; And there his Godship did entreat To look out for his best receipt:...
Thrice, with a prophet's voice, and prophet's power, The Muse was called in a poetic hour, And insolently thrice the slighted maid Dared to suspend her unregarded aid;...
As, when a lofty pile is raised, We never hear the workmen praised, Who bring the lime, or place the stones. But all admire Inigo Jones: So, if this pile of scatter'd rhymes...
And shall the Patriot who maintain'd your cause, From future ages only meet applause? Shall he, who timely rose t'his country's aid, By her own sons, her guardians, be betray'd?...
You have undone Horace, - what should hinder Thy Muse from falling upon Pindar? But ere you mount his fiery steed, Beware, O Bard, how you proceed: - For should you give him once the reins,...
Libertas et natale solum: [2] Fine words! I wonder where you stole 'em. Could nothing but thy chief reproach Serve for a motto on thy coach? But let me now the words translate: Natale solum, my estate;...
By holy zeal inspired, and led by fame, To thee, once favourite isle, with joy I came; What time the Goth, the Vandal, and the Hun, Had my own native Italy[1] o'errun. Ierne, to the world's remotest parts,...