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WITHER, George (1588—1667)

On a stolen kiss---XVII
A madrigal-XIX

Shall I, wasting in despair ?--XXXVIII.
Wolcot, John (1738–1819)

What is prudence ?-CXXX
To sleep-CCXLI
To a kiss-CCLXVIII
Marian's complaint-CCLXXII

To a fish-CCCLXXIII.
WORDSWORTH, William (1770--1850)

To a young lady who had been reproached for taking long

walks in the country-CCLXXXVIII.
Wotton, Sir Henry (1568–1639)

Upon the death of Sir A. Mo n's wife--CLXV

On his mistress the Queen of hemia---CCIII.
WYAT, Sir Thomas (1503—1542)

The one he would love--II.

UNKNOWN.

Since I first saw your face I vowed - XIII
Fain would I, Chloris, ere I die—XXIII
My Love in her attire doth show her wit-XXXIV
Love not me for comely grace-LIII
Wert thou yet fairer in thy feature-LV
The peremptory lover-LVII
His excuse for loving--XCIX
To Winifreda-CXII
A man may live thrice Nestor's life-CXIII
On the Marriage Act-CXV
Pr’ythee, Chloe, not so fast---CXXI
To a glove-CXXVII
Susan's complaint-CXXVIII
Strephon, when you see me fly-CXXXIV
What is a woman like?-cxxxy
Last Sunday at St. James's prayers--CXLV
When Molly smiles beneath her cow-CLII
Robin's complaint-CLIII
A Lover's message-CLV
As t'other day o'er the green meadow I pass'd-CLVIII
Young Colin protests I'm his joy and delight--CLIX
Wind, gentle evergreen, to form a shade-CLXX
The nymph and the swain--CLXXX
The constant swain and virtuous maid-CCV
You say you love,---and twenty more--CCVI
The courtship and wedding-CCVIII
On Lord King's motto-ccix
A husband to a wife-CCXXI
No truer friend than woman man discovers - CCXXII
Till death I Sylvia must adore--CCXXIII.
My heart still hovering round about you-ccxxx

UNKNOWN, Continued-

Early rising—CCXXXIV
The Sages of old, in prophecy told--ccxLv
Says Plato, why should man be vain ?--CCXLVI
On breaking a china mug-CCLI
The country wedding-CCLII
On a kiss-CCLXIX
The auburn lock-CCLXX
Secret love-CCLXXIII
My Lilia gave me yestermorn-CCCII
The honeymoon-cccxxv.

INDEX OF FIRST LINES.

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A BAND, a bob-wig, and a feather
A bard, dear muse, unapt to sing
About fifty years since, in the days of our daddies
About the sweet-bag of a bee
A face that should content me wondrous well
A funeral stone, or verse, I covet none
Ah, Ben! say how or when
Ah ! Chloris ! could I now but sit
Ah! do not drive off grief, but place your hand
Ah me! those old familiar bounds!
Ah! what avails the sceptred race!
Ah, what is love! it is a pretty thing
A knife, dear girl, cuts love, they say
A knight and a lady once met in a grove
A little boy had bought a top,
All my past life is mine no more
All through the sultry hours of June
All travellers at first incline
All you that e'er tasted of Swatfal-Hall beer
Alone, across a foreign plain
A lovely

young lady I mourn in my rhymes
Although I enter not
A man may live thrice Nestor's life
Amaryllis I did woo
Amongst the myrtles as I walk'a :
Among thy fancies, tell me this
A pretty task, Miss S to ask
Ariel to Miranda : Take
A ring to me Cecilia sends
As after noon, one summer's day
As beautiful Kitty one morning was tripping
As Dick and I were a-sailing by
As doctors give physic by way of prevention
As down in the meadows I chanced to pass .
As gilly-flowers do but stay
As I sat at the Café I said to myself
As I sate down to breakfast in state
As I went to the wake that is held on the green
Ask me no more where Jove bestows

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Ask me why I send you here
As lamps burn silent with unconscious light
As Nancy at her toilet sat
As on this pictured page I look
Asses' milk, half a pint, take at seven, or before
As t'other day o'er the green meadow I pass'd
A street there is in Paris famous
A sweet disorder in the dress
As when a beauteous nymph decays
A temple to Friendship,” said Laura, enchanted
At length, by so much importunity press'd .
Away, let nought to love displeasing
A woman is like to--but stay
Aye, bear it hence, thou blessed child :
Ay, here stands the poplar, so tall and so stately
BEAT on, proud billows ; Boreas, blow
Before the urchin well could go
Behold what homage to his idol paid
Behold with downcast eyes and modest glance
Beneath an Indian palm a girl
Between Nose and Eyes a

contest arose
Beyond the vague Atlantic deep
Blue as the sky were the simple flowers
Busy, curious, thirsty fly!
CHILDREN, keep up that harmless play
Chloe, why wish you that your years
Chloris, yourself you so excel
Christmas is here
Close by the threshold of a door nail'd fast
Come, come, my good shepherds, our flocks we must shear
Come from my First, ay, come
Come, gentle sleep, attend thy votary's prayer
Come let us now resolve at last
Come, lovely lock of Julia's hair
Cupid and my Campaspe play'd
Cyriac, whose grandsire on the royal bench

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DEAR child of nature, let them rail !-
Dear Chloe, how blubber'd is that pretty face !
Dear Doctor of St. Mary's
Dear is my little native vale
Dear Joseph,--five-and-twenty years ago-
Dear little, pretty, favourite ore
Dear Love, let me this evening die
Dear Lucy, you know what my wish is
Did ever swain a nymph adore
Distracted with care
Dorinda's sparkling wit and eyes
Do you ask what the birds say? The sparrow, the dove
Drink to me only with thine eyes

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would I, Chloris, ere I die
Fair Amoret is gone astray

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Fair cousin mine! the golden days
Fair Hebe I left, with a cautious design
Fair Iris I love, and hourly I die
Fair maiden ! when I look at thee
Fair maid, had I not heard thy baby cries
Fair marble, tell to future days
False tho' she be to me and love
Farewell ! all good wishes go with him to-day
Farewell !—but whenever you welcome the hour.
Farewell ! farewell to my mother's own daughter
Fill the goblet again! for I never before
Fluttering spread thy purple pinions
For many a winter in Billiter-lane
Fortune, that, with malicious joy.
Friends, hear the words my wandering thoughts would say
From you, Ianthe, little troubles pass .

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Gaily I lived as ease and nature taught
Gather ye rose-buds while ye may
Give me more love, or more disdain
Good-night? ah! no; the hour is ill
Good-night to thee, Lady! tho' many
Go, rose, my Chloe's bosom grace
Go, virgin kid, with lambent kiss
Go--you may call it madness, folly
Gracefully shy is yon gazelle
Great Earl of Bath, your reign is o'er
Great Sir, as on each levée day

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HAD Cain been Scot, God would have changed his doom
Hail! day of music, day of love
Hail! pretty emblem of my fate!
Happy and free, securely blest
Happy the man whose wish and care
Hayrick some do spell thy name
Health, strength and beauty, who would not resign
He first deceased; she, for a little, tried
Here lies, whom hound did ne'er pursue
Here Rogers sat, and here for ever dwell
Here's the garden she walked across
Her eyes the glow-worm lend thee
Heroes and kings ! your distance keep .
fle stood, a worn-out city clerk
He talked of daggers and of darts
He that loves a rosy cheek
He that will win his dame must do
His book is successful, he's steeped in renown
Ho! pretty page, with the dimpled chin
How blest has my time been ! What joys have I known
How happily shelter'd is he who reposes
How happy a thing were a wedding
How many voices gaily sing
Hush ! in the canal below
Huzza ! Hodgson, we are going

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