How anxious are our cares, and yet how vain,
358.

How blest are Shepherds, how happy their
Lasses, 1029.

How blest is he, who leads a country life, 784.
How comes it, gentlemen, that nowadays, 171.
How dull, and how insensible a beast, 906.
How happy in his low degree, 200.
How happy the lover, 266.

How unhappy a lover am I, 64.

How wretched is the fate of those who write,
899.

I beg a boon, that, ere you all disband, 82.

I feed a flame within, which so torments me, 52.
I first transferr'd to Rome Sicilian strains, 431.
I'm thinking (and it almost makes me mad),
262.

I never did on cleft Parnassus dream, 357.

I quak'd at heart, for fear the royal fashion,

259.

I think, or hope at least, the coast is clear, 279.
I've had to-day a dozen billets-doux, 265.
If for thyself thou wilt not watch thy whore,
168.

If streaming blood my fatal letter stain, 93.
If yet there be a few that take delight, 87.
In country beauties as we often see, 904.
In Cupid's school whoe'er would take degree,
718.

In days of old, there liv'd, of mighty fame, 752.
In days of old, when Arthur fill'd the throne,

872.

In Florence dwelt a doctor of renown, 915.
In pious times, ere priestcraft did begin, 109.
In Saturn's reign, at Nature's early birth, 335.
In that wild deluge where the world was
drown'd, 13.

In those cold regions which no summers cheer,

132.

In thriving arts long time had Holland grown,
28.

Is it not strange to hear a poet say, 18.

Is this thy daily course? The glaring sun, 366.

Ladies! (I hope there's none behind to hear),
124.

Ladies, the beardless author of this day, 104.
Let this auspicious morning be express'd, 363.
Like some raw sophister that mounts the pul-
pit, 417.

Long betwixt love and fear Phyllis, tormented,
70.

Look, look, I see - I see my love appear! 900.
Look round the habitable world: how few, 347.
Lord, how reform'd and quiet are we grown, 66.

New ministers, when first they get in place,
153.

No, no, poor suff'ring heart, no change en-
deavor, 280.

No poor Dutch peasant, wing'd with all his
fear, 73.

Nor him alone produc'd the fruitful queen, 806.
Now, in good manners, nothing should be said,
411.

Now, luck for us, and a kind hearty pit, 103.
Now Night with sable wings the world o'er-
spread, 927.

Now turning from the wintry signs, the sun,
845.

Now with a general peace the world was blest, 7.

O last and best of Scots! who didst maintain,
269.

O sight, the mother of desires, 266.
O sylvan prophet, whose eternal fame, 919.
Of all dramatic writing, comic wit, 53.
Of all our antic sights and pageantry, 128.
Of all the cities in Romanian lands, 832.
Of ancient use to poets it belongs, 373.
Of bodies chang'd to various forms I sing, 386.
Of gentle blood, his parents' only treasure, 101.
Oft has our poet wish'd, this happy seat, 76.
Old as am, for ladies' love unfit, 890.

On a bank, beside a willow, 171.

Once I beheld the fairest of her kind, 413.
Our author, by experience, finds it true, 77.
Our hero's happy in the play's conclusion, 172.
Our play's a parallel: the Holy League, 155.
Our vows are heard betimes! and Heaven
takes care, 253.

Perhaps the parson stretch'd a point too far,
899.

Poets, like disputants, when reasons fail, 81.
Poets, like lawful monarchs, rul'd the stage, 123.
Poets, your subjects, have their parts assign'd,

75.

Poor mortals that are clogg'd with earth below,
903.

Priam, to whom the story was unknown, 853.
Prologues, like bells to churches, toll you in,
69.

Pygmalion, loathing their lascivious life, 805.

Rash author, 't is a vain presumptuous crime,
908.

Save ye, sirs, save ye! I am in a hopeful way,
263.

Scarce had the rosy Morning rais'd her head,
671.

See, my lov'd Britons, see your Shakespeare
rise, 85.

Self-love, which never rightly understood, 59.
Sicilian Muse, begin a loftier strain! 428.

Since faction ebbs, and rogues grow out of
fashion, 153.

Since men, like beasts, each other's prey were
made, 137.

Since on the downs our flocks together feed,
429.

So closely, closely press'd, 904.

So fair, so young, so innocent, so sweet, 102.
So Joseph, yet a youth, expounded well, 211.
So may th' auspicious Queen of Love, 198.
So much religion in your name doth dwell, 735.
So, on Mæander's banks, when death is nigh,
98.

So shipwrack'd passengers escape to land, 64.
Some have expected from our bills to-day, 70.
Stay Stranger Stay and drop one Tear, 268.
Still shall I hear, and never quit the score, 322.
Success, which can no more than beauty last, 61.
Sure there's a dearth of wit in this dull town,
264.

Sure there's a fate in plays, and 't is in vain, 278.
Sylvia, the fair, in the bloom of fifteen, 201.

Tell me, Thyrsis, tell your anguish, 157.
The bard who first adorn'd our native tongue,
749.

The blast of common censure could I fear, 79.
The chiefs were set, the soldiers crown'd the
field, 865.

The day approach'd when Fortune should de-
cide, 768.

The day is come, I see it rise, 71.

The fame of this, perhaps, thro' Crete had
flown, 401.

The fam'd Italian Muse, whose rhymes ad-
vance, 106.

The gates of heav'n unfold: Jove summons
all, 653.

The gifts of heav'n my foll'wing song pursues,

476.

86.

The Wild Gallant has quite play'd out his
game, 19.

The wrath of Peleus' son, O Muse, resound,
811.

Thee, Sovereign God, our grateful accents
praise, 919.

There liv'd, as authors tell, in days of yore, 822.
There's not a monster bred beneath the sky,
912.

These cruel critics put me into passion, 85.
These prodigies afflict the pious prince, 838.
These some old man sees wanton in the air, 918.
Thespis, the first professor of our art, 87.
They who have best succeeded on the stage, 62.
They who write ill, and they who ne'er durst
write, 62.

This day the poet, bloodily inclin'd, 279.

This jest was first of t' other house's making, 60.
Tho' actors cannot much of learning boast, 106.
Tho' what our Prologue said was sadly true,

74.

Thus you the sad catastrophe have seen, 280.
Thy fields, propitious Pales, I rehearse, 464.
Thy sacred succor, Arethusa, bring, 439.
'Tis hard, my friend, to write in such an age,
734.

'Tis much desir'd, you judges of the town, 20.
'Tis pleasant, safely to behold from shore, 183.
To all and singular in this full meeting, 21.
To Amaryllis love compels my way, 169.
To say, this comedy pleas'd long ago, 56.
To you who live in chill degree, 214.
True wit has seen its best days long ago, 82.
"T was at the royal feast, for Persia won, 731.
'T was on a joyless and a gloomy morn, 277.
Twelve Spartan virgins, noble, young, and fair,

192.

Two houses join'd, two poets to a play? 156.
Unhappy I, who once ordain'd did bear, 918.

Wake, wake, Quevira! our soft rest must cease,
903.

We act by fits and starts, like drowning men,

107.

Well then, the promis'd hour is come at last,

412.

Were none of you gallants e'er driven so hard,
65.

Were you but half so wise as y' are severe, 79.
What flocks of critics hover here to-day, 80.
What Greece, when learning flourish'd, only
knew, 72.

What has this bugbear death to frighten man,

183.

What makes a plenteous harvest, when to turn,
444.

What Nostradame, with all his art, can guess,

260.

What Sophocles could undertake alone, 84.
What state of life can be so blest, 411.

What think you, sirs, was 't not all well
enough? 66.

What vast prerogatives, my Gallus, are, 356.
When Athens all the Grecian state did guide,
83.

When factious rage to cruel exile drove, 133.
When first our poet set himself to write, 57.
When first the ark was landed on the shore,
107.

When for our sakes your hero you resign'd,

26.

When Heav'n had overturn'd the Trojan state,
551.

When loose epistles violate chaste eyes, 95.
When Turnus had assembled all his pow'rs, 625.
When Turnus saw the Latins leave the field,
689.

Wherever I am, and whatever I do, 63.

Whether the fruitful Nile, or Tyrian shore, 173.
While Arcite lives in bliss, the story turns, 759.
While flattering crowds officiously appear, 15.
While Norman Tancred in Salerno reign'd, 792.
While these affairs in distant places pass'd, 638.
Whilst Alexis lay press'd, 68.

Who ever saw a noble sight, 72.

Whoe'er thou art, whose forward years are
bent, 370.

Why should a foolish marriage vow, 68.

With sickly actors and an old house too, 65.
Women like us (passing for men), you 'll cry,
66.

Ye sacred relics, which your marble keep, 102.
You charm'd me not with that fair face, 58.
You say 't is love creates the pain, 267.
You see what shifts we are inforc'd to try, 903.
You've seen a pair of faithful lovers die, 81.
Young Corydon, th' unhappy shepherd swain,
423.

Young I am, and yet unskill'd, 411.

Your hay it is mow'd, and your corn is reap'd,
266.

Your husband will be with us at the treat, 730.

ABSALOM AND ACHITOPHEL, 108.
ABSALOM AND ACHITOPHEL, THE SECOND
PART OF, 137.

Acis, Polyphemus, and Galatea, The Fable of
(Ovid), 403.

Eneis (Virgil), 487.

Esacus transform'd into a Cormorant (Ovid),
918.

Against the Fear of Death (Lucretius), 183.

Ajax and Ulysses, The Speeches of (Ovid), 865.
ALEXANDER'S FEAST, 731.
Amaryllis (Theocritus), 169.

Amours (Ovid), Book 1, Elegy 1, 729.
Amours (Ovid), Book 1, Elegy IV, 730.
Amyntas, On the Death of, 276.
ANNUS MIRABILIS, 22.
Answer, The, 69.

Art of Love, Book 1 (Ovid), 718.
Art of Poetry, The, 908.
ASTREA REDUX, 7.

Baucis and Philemon (Ovid), 802.
BOCCACCIO, TRANSLATIONS FROM:
Cymon and Iphigenia, 890.
Sigismonda and Guiscardo, 792.
Theodore and Honoria, 832.
BRITANNIA REDIVIVA, 253.
Bucks, On the Duke of, 920.

Canace to Macareus (Ovid), 92.
Castlemaine, To the Lady, 20.
Cecilia's Day, Song for St., 252.
Ceyx and Alcyone (Ovid), 838.

Character of a Good Parson, The (Chaucer),
888.

Driden, To my honor'd kinsman, John, 784.
Dryden, Letter to Madame Honor, 3.
Duchess, Verses to her Highness the, 26.
Dundee, Epitaph on Viscount, 269.

EARLY POEMS, 1.
ELEONORA, 269.

Empress of Morocco, Lines on Settle's, 905.
Enjoyment, 904.

Epigram on Milton, 253.
Epigram on Tonson, 735.

EPILOGUES, see PROLOGUES AND EPILOGUES.
Epitaph on John Graham of Claverhouse, Vis-
count Dundee, 269.

Epitaph on Mrs. Margaret Paston, 102.

Epitaph on Sir Palmes Fairborne's tomb in
Westminster Abbey, 102.

Epitaph on the Lady Whitmore, 267.

Epitaph on the Monument of a Fair Maiden
Lady who died at Bath, 735.

Epitaph on the Monument of the Marquis of
Winchester, 101.

Epitaph on the Poet's Nephew, Erasmus Law-
ton, 268.

Epitaph upon the E. of Ro-ster's being dis-
miss'd from the Treasury, 921.
Epithalamium of Helen and Menelaus (Theo-
critus), 192.

Essay upon Satire (Mulgrave), 905.

Essay upon Satire, see Discourse concerning
the Original and Progress of Satire.
Etherege, Letter to Sir George, 214.

Fable of Acis, Polyphemus, and Galatea, The
(Ovid), 403.

Fable of Iphis and Ianthe, The (Ovid), 401.
FABLES, ANCIENT and MODERN, 736.

Fair Stranger, The, 202.

Fair Young Lady, Song to a, 406.

Fairborne, Epitaph on Sir Palmes, 102.

Familiar Epistle to Mr. Julian, Secretary of

the Muses, 921.

Matilda, To, 921.

MEDAL, THE, 125.

Meleager and Atalanta (Ovid), 787.

Mezentius and Lausus, The entire episode of
(Virgil), 926.

Milton, Epigram on, 253.

Mistaken Husband, The, 920.

Monument of a Fair Maiden Lady who died at
Bath and is there interr'd, The, 735.
Motteux, To Mr., 734.

Nisus and Euryalus, The entire episode of
(Virgil), 921.

Northleigh, To Mr. J., 211.

Nun's Priest, The Tale of the (Chaucer), 822.

Ode on the Death of Mr. Henry Purcell, 416.
Of a noble race was Shenkin, 921.

Palamon and Arcite (Chaucer), 752.
Paston, Mrs. Margaret, Epitaph on, 102.
Pastorals (Virgil), 419.

PERSIUS, TRANSLATIONS FROM:

First Satire, 357.

Second Satire, 362.

Third Satire, 365.

Fourth Satire, 369.
Fifth Satire, 372.

Sixth Satire, 377.

Pilgrim, The Secular Masque from The, 901.
POEMS INCLUDED IN EXAMEN POETICUM (THE
THIRD MISCELLANY), 1693, 382.

POEMS INCLUDED IN MISCELLANY POEMS (THE
FIRST MISCELLANY), 1684, 168.

POEMS INCLUDED IN SYLVE (THE SECOND
MISCELLANY), 1685, 175.

POEMS WRITTEN BETWEEN 1662 AND 1665, 17.
POEMS WRITTEN BETWEEN 1667 AND 1680, 51.
POEMS WRITTEN BETWEEN 1689 AND 1691, 258.
POEMS WRITTEN BETWEEN 1693 AND 1696, 410.
POEMS WRITTEN IN 1681, 104.

Poetry, The Art of, 908.

Portsmouth, To be written under the picture
of the Duchess of, 920.