1. et
To the same (Mr. L-----) III



Dear brother, to these happy shades repair,

And leave, Oh leave the city's noxious air:

I'll try description, friend---methinks I see

'Twill influence your curiosity.


Before our door a meadow flies the eye,...

Poet:
To The Same.

GREAT sir, as on each levée day

I still attend you - still you say

I'm busy now, to-morrow come;

To-morrow, sir, you're not at home,

So says your porter, and dare I

Give such a man as him the lie?

...

Poet:
To The Same. On Her Wishing To Have A Lilliputian To Play With.

   Is there a man who would not be,

My Celia, what is priz'd by thee?

A monkey beau, to please thy sight,

Would wish to be a monkey quite.

Or (couldst thou be delighted so)

Each man of sense would be a beau...

Poet:
To The Same; Having Blamed Mr. Gay For His Severity On Her Sex.

  LET it not Celia's gentle heart perplex

That Gay severe hath satiriz'd her sex;

Had they, like her, a tenderness but known,

Back on himself each pointed dart had flown.

But blame thou last, in whose accomplish'd...

Poet:
To the stanch Dust

To the stanch Dust

We safe commit thee —

Tongue if it hath,

Inviolate to thee —

Silence — denote —

And Sanctity — enforce thee —

Passenger — of Infinity —

Poet:
To the sun (Botta)

            Thou glorious lamp of Space! Thou that dost flood

            The void of heaven with brightness! in thy glow

            Unnumbered worlds, age after age, have trod

            In their appointed paths, and yet the flow
...

Poet:
To the unknown builder of the Cathedral of Cologne

          Unknown great Master! whose creative thought

             Is here inscribed, though from Fame's shining scroll

          Thy name is lost, this wondrous dome is fraught

             With the expression of thy reverent soul.
...

Poet:
To the venerable General Gaines

        Though Time has silvered o'er thy honored head,

            And left some traces on thy gallant form,

        Upon thy soul no hoar-frost has he shed,

            Nor chilled the heart that yet beats true and warm.

 ...

Poet:
To their apartment deep

To their apartment deep

No ribaldry may creep

Untumbled this abode

By any man but God —

Poet:
To this World she returned.

To this World she returned.

But with a tinge of that —

A Compound manner,

As a Sod

Espoused a Violet,

That chiefer to the Skies

Than to himself, allied,

Dwelt hesitating, half of Dust,
...

Poet: