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University of Virginia Library

A Collection of Poems in Six Volumes

Dodsley, Robert (1703-1764)

I.

II.

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III.

ON A GROTTO near the Thames, at Twickenham, Composed of Marbles, Spars, and Minerals.

HYMN on SOLITUDE.

An ODE ON ÆOLUS's HARP.

On the Report of a Wooden Bridge to be built at Westminster.

The Choice of HERCULES.

An ODE. TO THE People of GREAT BRITAIN.

PSYCHE: or the GREAT METAMORPHOSIS.

JOVI ELEUTHERIO.

AN EPISTLE FROM A Swiss Officer to his Friend at Rome.

LIFE burthensome, because we know not how to use it.

The Duty of Employing one's Self.

On SCRIBLING against GENIUS.

An EPISTLE from FLORENCE.

EPILOGUE to Tamerlane. On the Suppression of the Rebellion.

The ENTHUSIAST:

Stanzas written on taking the Air after a long Illness.

The Two Beavers. A Fable.

CONTENTMENT.

The Education of ACHILLES.

An EPISTLE from S. J. Esq; in the Country, to the Right Hon. the Lord Lovelace in Town.

To a LADY in Town, soon after her leaving the Country.

To the Right Hon. the Lady Margaret Cavendish Harley, presented with a Collection of Poems.

CHLOE to STREPHON.

To the Right Honourable the Earl of CHESTERFIELD, on his being installed Knight of the Garter.

To a LADY, sent with a Present of Shells and Stones design'd for a Grotto.

To a LADY, in answer to a Letter wrote in a very fine Hand.

The Art of DANCING. A Poem. Inscribed to the Rt. Hon. the Lady Fanny Fielding.

THE MODERN FINE GENTLEMAN.

THE MODERN FINE LADY.

AN ESSAY on VIRTUE. To the Honourable PHILIP YORKE, Esq;

The FEMALE DRUM: Or, The Origin of Cards. A Tale.

To Mr. FOX, written at Florence. In Imitation of Horace, Ode 4. Book 2.

To the Same. From Hampton-Court, 1731.

The POET's PRAYER.

An EPISTLE to a Lady.

GENIUS, VIRTUE, and REPUTATION.

MARRIAGE A-LA-MODE.

An INSCRIPTION.

To a GENTLEMAN,

THE ESTIMATE of LIFE, IN THREE PARTS.

The PLEASURE of POETRY.

The POWER of POETRY.

To a Young Lady with Fontenelle's Plurality of Worlds.

To the Author of the Farmer's Letters, which were written in Ireland in the Year of the Rebellion, by Henry Brooke, Esq; 1745.

VERSES written in a Book called, Fables for the Female Sex.

VERSES written in Sylvia's PRIOR.

Upon a LADY's Embroidery.

DEATH and the DOCTOR.

INSCRIPTIONS on a Monument to the Memory of a Lady's favourite Bullfinch.

The Trial of SELIM the PERSIAN.

The TROPHY, BEING SIX CANTATAS To the Honour of his Royal Highness Willliam, Duke of CUMBERLAND;

The Marriage of the Myrtle and the Yew.

On a BAY-LEAF, pluck'd from Virgil's Tomb near Naples. 1736.

To CHLOE. Written on my Birth-Day, 1734.

FASHION: A Satire.

NATURE and FORTUNE.

To the Earl of CHESTERFIELD.

HONOUR. A Poem.

ODE to a Water Nymph. By Mr. Mason.

AN ESSAY ON SATIRE,

A Character of Mr. POPE's Writings. BEING An Episode from the Poem call'd Sickness, Book II.

The Cave of Pope. A Prophecy.

IV.

V.

VI.

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CONTENTMENT.

By the Same.

Farewell aspiring thoughts, no more
My soul shall leave the peaceful shore,
To sail Ambition's main;
Fallacious as the harlot's kiss,
You promise me uncertain bliss,
And give me certain pain.

120

A beauteous prospect first you shew,
Which ere survey'd you paint anew,
And paint it wond'rous pleasant:
This in a third is quickly lost:
Thus future good we covet most,
But ne'er enjoy the present.

Deluded on from scene to scene,
We never end, but still begin,
By flatt'ring Hope betray'd;
I'm weary of the painful chace,
Let others run this endless race
To catch a flying shade.

Let others boast their useless wealth;
Have I not honesty and health?
Which riches cannot give:
Let others to preferment soar,
And, changing liberty for pow'r,
In golden shackles live.

'Tis time, at length, I should be wise,
'Tis time to seek substantial joys;
Joys out of Fortune's pow'r:
Wealth, honours, dignities, and fame,
Are toys the blind capricious dame
Takes from us ev'ry hour.

121

Come, conscious Virtue, fill my breast,
And bring Content, thy daughter, dress'd
In ever-smiling charms:
Let sacred Friendship too attend;
A friendship worthy of my friend,
Such as my Lælius warms.

With these I'll in my bosom make
A bulwark Fortune cannot shake,
Tho' all her storms arise;
Look down and pity gilded slaves,
Despise Ambition's giddy knaves,
And wish the Fools were wise.