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University of Virginia Library

Miscellanies, in Verse and Prose

By George Jeffreys

Jeffreys, George,1678-1755

VERSES TO THE AUTHOR.

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Original POEMS, AND TRANSLATIONS.

VERSES upon the Death of the Duke of Gloucester.

VERSES occasioned by the Solemnity of Mr. Dryden's Funeral.

On the Resurrection.

Ex tempore; on Sight of a Dance.

On Blenheim-House.

On the Death of Parthenia.

An ODE from Sappho, English'd.

The Beginning of Lucan, Book 8. English'd.

Part of Lucan, Book IX. English'd.

The Sixteenth of May.

Horace, Book II. Ode 5. English'd.

Horace, Book II. Ode 9. Imitated.

To Mr. Addison, on his Tragedy of Cato.

Song.

An ODE, on the Death of Charles XII. King of Sweden.

On the Death of Monimia.

On the Earl of Oxford's Enlargement.

Written in a Lady's Tunbridge Miscellanies.

ODE for New-year's-day, 1720.

On a Gentleman who ran mad with Love of a Physician's Daughter.

Epilogue to Money the Mistress,

Epitaph, On the Rev. Dr. Drelincourt, Dean of Armagh;

Prologue, design'd for the Adelphi, in 1720.

Horace, Epode IV. Imitated.

To Mrs. Cibber,

The Peach Stone.

Prologue, spoken by Mrs. Brett,

Prologue, design'd for Merope.

ODE from the Latin of Dr. Pitcairn.

On the Essays on Man.

On the Shell-work in Berkshire.

On a Lady's Hand-writing.

On the Marriage of Sir Edward Turner and Miss Leigh.

On a Lady from India, who loves Bathing.

A Riddle of Dean Swift's, versified.

From the French.

From the same Language,

On the Birth of Sir Edward Turner's Son.

Translation of a Latin Epigram on Casimire.

From the French Opera of Orpheus.

To a Lady on her Birth-day, March 31.

To Veneroni's Dictionary,

To a Gentleman,

On a Lady's bidding a certain Person look in the Glass.

A Dialogue between a Marquess and a Saint.

Horace, Ode VI. Book I.

Horace, Ode XIII. Book I.

Horace, Ode IV. Book IV.

Prologue to Esther, a Tragedy;

The Story of Phaeton.

Father Francis and Sister Constance.

The Happy Pair;

Epigram, To the Memory of Peter Alexiowitz,

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45

Song.

[Ye lips, my theme of endless praise]

Ye lips, my theme of endless praise,
Soft as the velvet that arrays
Her slender waist, adieu;
Heaven's finest work, and purest mold,
Like opening Roses to behold,
And hung with sweeter dew.

Oh! could I taste the Nectar there,
And after live, 'twould heal the care
Her darting eyes have given;
As Persians on the barren Plain
Scorch'd by their Sun, ador'd in vain,
Are chear'd by showers from Heaven.