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University of Virginia Library

Poems on Several Occasions

By Mr. George Woodward

Woodward, George

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TO The Right Honourable HENRY Earl of Clarendon and Rochester.

[What Words can fair Hortilia's Charms express?]

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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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74

Upon seeing a very Beautiful LADY MASK'D.

And what fond Man could ever hope to find
Such matchless Goodness in the Women-kind.
All made to torture, and afflict with Pain,
All made relentless in Tyrannick Reign.
But Sacharissa knows she's killing Fair,
Knows, that there's Glory got, sometimes to spare,
She hates to drag a Heart about in Chains,
And make her Slave endure a Thousand Pains,
Modestly fair she veils th' unequal Blaze,
And shines serenely bright with half her Rays.

75

As the Sun hides his Face from mortal Sight,
And pours thro' Clouds but half his radiant Light,
Lest the dry'd Flow'rs, unable to withstand
His Beams, should fade, and Earth be turn'd to Sand:
So Sacharissa, ever-charming Fair!
Makes this her dayly, her peculiar Care,
To veil her Face, and spare the heedless Boy,
Who by a fatal Look might all his Life destroy.