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The miscellaneous essays and occasional writings of Francis Hopkinson, Esq

Hopkinson, Francis (1737-1791)

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VOLUME I.
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“I've A THOUGHT—WHAT'S IT LIKE?”
  
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Titius.
  
Sempronius.
  
Eudocius.
  
Dion.
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VOLUME II.
  
THE NEW ROOF:
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VOLUME III.
  
TO THE Rev. Mr. WILLIAM SMITH,
  
ODE ON MUSIC.
  
SONG.
  
To Miss ---,
  
To THE MEMORY OF Mr. WILLIAM WILLCOCKS,
  
HERMITAGE, A POEM,
  
ADVICE TO AMANDA.
  
AN EPIGRAM.
  
L'ALLEGRO.
  
IL PENSEROSO.
  
A MORNING HYMN.
  
AN ELEGY.
  
VERSES
  
SONG.
  
On THE LATE SUCCESSFUL EXPEDITION AGAINST LOUISBOURG.
  
A PROLOGUE
  
EPILOGUE FOR TAMERLANE,
  
A PROLOGUE
  
CHARITY, A POEM.
  
DESCRIPTION OF A CHURCH.
  
TO CELIA,
  
A PARAPHRASE.
  
An ELEGY.
  
An EPITAPH.
  
DISAPPOINTED LOVE.
  
An EXERCISE.
  
THE ODE.
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An EXERCISE;
  
THE ODE.
  
An ODE
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SCIENCE; A POEM.
  
DEDICATION.
  
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A MORNING HYMN.
  
AN EVENING HYMN.
  
TO ROSALINDA,
  
EXTEMPORE VERSES
  
DIRTILLA, A POEM.
  
A SENTIMENT:
  
THE TREATY; A POEM ,
  
AN ELEGY
  
VERSES
  
TO A VERY YOUNG LADY.
  
AN ODE
  
THE HUMBLE PETITION
  
To MYRTILLA.
  
AN EVENING AT SEA.
  
VERSES
  
TO DELIA,
  
SONG.
  
TO MYRTILLA.
  
THE WASP.
  
TO T--- M---, Esq.
  
TO THE MEMORY OF Mrs. MARY M'KEAN.
  
POLITICAL BALLADS,
  
The BATTLE OF THE KEGS.
  
A CAMP BALLAD.
  
THE TOAST.
  
The BIRDS, the BEASTS, and the BAT.
  
THE MOST GRACIOUS ADDRESS
  
IN MEMORY OF Mr. JAMES BREMNER.
  
SONG I. Come, fair Rosina, come away
  
SONG II. My love is gone to sea
  
SONG III. Beneath a weeping willow's shade
  
SONG IV. Enraptur'd I gaze when my Delia is by
  
SONG V. See down Maria's blushing cheek
  
SONG VI. O'er the hills far away, at the birth of the morn
  
SONG VII. My gen'rous heart disdains
  
SONG VIII. The traveller benighted and lost
  
AN ORATION,

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Attend, says Didius, if you will,
I'll make a trial of your skill;
A thought hath just popp'd in my mind,
Let every one a likeness find;
And he that can't a likeness fit
Shall take a glass to whet his wit.
For wine is known to be specific
In making barren brains prolific:
And 'tis past doubt, a bumper will him ease
Who is hard bound in making similies.
A thought doth now my fancy strike;
Pray tell me what my thought is like.
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