To Leonora,1 Singing in Rome.

"My lids with grief were tumid yet,     And still my sullied cheek was wet     With briny dews profusely shed     For venerable Winton dead,2"

"Thus they in lowliest plight repentant stood     Praying, for from the Mercie-seat above     Prevenient Grace descending had removd     The st"

"Hail native Language, that by sinews weak     Didst move my first endeavouring tongue to speak,     And mad'st imperfect words with childish tri"

"(In Four Books.) With eager search to dart the soul, Curiously vain, from pole to pole, And from the planets' wandering spheres To extort the number o"

"POETS, like lawful monarchs, ruled the stage, Till critics, like damn'd Whigs, debauch'd our age. Mark how they jump: critics would regulate Our theat"