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University of Virginia Library

Poems on Several Occasions

By Mr. George Woodward

Woodward, George

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On Lucan Lib. IX. Verse. Jupiter est, quodcunque vides.

TO A Young GENTLEMAN WITH Mr. Addison's Miscellaneous Works.

TO A PAINTER Upon seeing a Certain APOTHECARY's PICTURE.

AN Evening Slumber.

THE English PINDARICK.

TO A Young LADY Sitting at her GLASS.

THE English SLAVE.

AN English PROVERB.

SONG TO PHÆBE.

ON Seeing the P---R's PICTURE, IN A N---ry HOUSE.

THE CASE stated.

SOLILOQUY On Seeing PHÆBE a-sleep.

A LETTER From a LADY To Her HUSBAND IN SPAIN, In her last Sickness.

TO THE NIGHTINGALE

TO A LADY ON HER PARROT.

Upon seeing the OBELISK IN BLENHEIM Park.

Upon seeing a very Beautiful LADY MASK'D.

ON A Young LADY, Who accidentally fell into the RIVER.

THE English BEAUTY.

THE Slighted SWAIN SONG.

ADVICE TO A FRIEND IN LOVE.

THE QUESTION TO PHÆBE.

A Hunting-SONG.

EPIGRAM ON MARRIAGE.

EPIGRAM ON WOMAN.

TO THE GRASSHOPPER.

A FRAGMENT OF PETRONIUS ARBITER.

Hor. Ode 26. Book 3.

Hor. Ode 15. Book 3.

ON THE DEATH OF A MONKEY

On Seeing the PICTURE OF DUNS SCOTUS In the PRINTING-HOUSE at OXFORD, Very Fresh and Good.

THE Lover's WISH.

OCCASION'D By Hearing the NIGHTINGALE AT MIDNIGHT.

UPON AN Ugly FELLOW, Who thought Himself HANDSOME, Because the GIRLS gaz'd UPON HIM So much.

SONG. TO PHÆBE

A SERIOUS MEDITATION Upon a Pair of broken BELLOWS.

EPIGRAM ON A MISER.

EPIGRAM ON A POSITIVE DISPUTANT,

SONNET Imitated From SPENCER.

EPIGRAM ON A BLIND MAN In Love with a FINE LADY.

THE Simple MAID.

ODE TO THE SPRING.

TO PHÆBE When She was ANGRY.

DESCRIPTION Of an Old WOMAN.

LA Belle Romanesque.

LA Belle Coquet.

THE Faithless MAID.

ON THE DEATH of Mr. JOHN WHITESIDE

THE OXFORD BEAUTIES.

PHÆBE TO FLORELIO

A SESSION OF THE OXFORD POETS.

THE FORCE OF BEAUTY.

A HYMN TO THE CREATOUR.

FAREWELL TO POETRY.

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68

TO THE NIGHTINGALE

Sweet Songster of the Woods and Grove!
Cease your melancholy Strain;
Alas too well I know, I Love,
Too sure I feel the pleasing Pain.
Sweet Songster of the Woods and Grove!
Cease your Strains, I know, I Love.

Go, tell the Nymph, for whom I burn,
Tell my Phæbe what I feel,
Tell her, 'tis for her I mourn,
All the love-sick Tale reveal.
Sweet Songster of the Woods and Grove!
Go, tell my Phæbe, how I Love.

69

Thou, that art the Bird of Love,
The Secret of my Soul impart;
For sure you cannot fail to move,
With thy warbled Airs, her Heart.
Sweet Songster of the Woods and Grove!
Tell this, and Oh!—She can't but Love.