The Works of the Late Aaron Hill :: :: University of Virginia Library

The Works of the Late Aaron Hill

... In Four Volumes. Consisting of Letters on Various Subjects, And of Original Poems, Moral and Facetious. With An Essay on the Art of Acting

Hill, Aaron (1685-1750)

Prologue, for Mr. Cibber, in the Fatal Bribery.

Epilogue, to the same Play, spoke by the Person, who represented Amelia.

An Entertainment, by Way of Epilogue, in the Characters of Wisdom, and Love.

PROLOGUE.

Prologue, to The Cure for Jealousy; spoken by a Woman, in Man's Cloaths.

Epilogue, to the same Play.

Prologue, spoke by Mr. Johnson.

PROLOGUE. Spoke by a young Gentleman,

EPILOGUE, To the same: spoke by Monimia.

PROLOGUE.

EPILOGUE, To the same.

PROLOGUE, For Mr. Johnson, in the Character of Cato.

PROLOGUE, To the Fatal Extravagance: spoke by Mr. Ryan.

EPILOGUE, To the same, spoke by Mrs Seymour.

Writ on a Window, in the Highlands of Scotland.

ORRA MOOR.

Verses made for Mr. S---v---ge; and sent to my Lady M---ls---d, his Mother.

On Lady Mary Wortley Montagu's bringing with her out of Turkey, the Art of Inoculating the Small-Pox.

To Clelia, in the Country.

To a Lady, who lov'd Angling,

To a Lady, who had a very fine Shape, and fine Complexion.

Answer to the Resolve.

Answer to a scurrilous, obscene Poem, entitled, An Epistle from Mrs Robinson to Senesino.

The Choice, to a Friend.

To the Editor of Clarissa.

Honest Tom Tar's Prayer.

Miss A---n---l's Circle.

To the two generous Masters St. Quintin,

Sent to a Lady with a Pocket-Looking-Glass.

To David Mallet Esq;

PROLOGUE:

The Actor's Epitome.

EPILOGUE, To the Lover

PROLOGUE.

The Lord's Prayer in Verse.

An Address, from the Statues at Stowe, to Lord Cobham, on his Return to his Garden.

What is God?

Writ on a Blank Leaf of Alzira,

To Lady W---,

To Mr. GARRICK. On his united Ideas of Actor and Writer.

On Sir ISAAC NEWTON.

To the Learned and Worshipful, the President, Censors, the Fellows, of the College of Physicians in London,

To CLIO:

On Two Lovely and Loving Sisters.

To the Editor of Albania, a Poem:

To Celia, with a return'd Tragedy.

To Lady W---.

PROLOGUE For the third Night, at Zara, when first play'd, at the Great Musick Room, in Villars Street, York Buildings.

EPIGRAM, On Occasion of the General Mourning.

EPILOGUE, For a Friend, Spoke by Miss Robinson.

EPILOGUE, for a Friend.

PROLOGUE. Spoke by young Mr. Giffard.

EPILOGUE, for a Friend.

PROLOGUE, to Every Man in his Folly.

EPILOGUE, for the Play, call'd Much ado about nothing,) Spoke by Mrs Pritchard.

Verses written, on Windows in several Parts of the Kingdom, in a Journey to Scotland.

The Distinction of Ages.

Description of a Tempest, from CVII Psalm.

Woman's Resolution.

EPITAPH. Upon a Man, and his Wife.

EPILOGUE, To Every Man in his Folly, Spoke by Mrs Clive.

PROLOGUE to the Tuscan Treaty.

The Muse to the Writer.

An ODE, to Astræa

PROLOGUE, To the Double Deceit.

The humble Petition of Pegasus to the White Horse of H---r.

EPILOGUE, To Zara

EPIGRAM, On giving the Name of Georgia to a Part of Carolina.

A Letter from a departed Spirit;

The CIVth Psalm.

To his Muse.

The Tears of the Muses: A Poem.

The Creation.

CAMILLUS:

Free Thoughts upon Faith: Or the Religion of Reason.

Sareph and Hamar: An Episode.

The Judgement-Day: A Poem.

CLEON to LYCIDAS;

The Excursion of FANCY: A Pindaric Ode.

HOR. Lib. I. ODE XXII.

HOR. Lib. I. ODE V.

HOR. Lib. I. ODE XX.

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To the two generous Masters St. Quintin,

on their tender Affection to each other, in their Progress through, and Recovery from, the Small-Pox.

Sexes are needless aids, in love's pure claim,
Since souls (not bodies) light our social flame.
Lamps, of imprison'd life, misplac'd, we shine,
Leap, lean our lengthening points—and long to join!

So, long'd your brother minds, to mix embrace;
As light meets light, and space is lost, in space.

DEATH, with suspended hand, beheld your strife,
Call'd off disease's rage, and set free life.
Why should they die, the ghastly Pauser cry'd
Whom names but separate, and but forms divide?
See, with what spring th' elastic strugglers flew!
Clung to their fate, and to death's horrors grew!

In vain eruptive fires their faces skreen:
Fever's hot anguish, vainly, burnt, between.
Wolves, that behind some thicket, scent their prey,
Not with more fierce delight, o'er thorns make way,
Than, lur'd by danger, one, with rapture sought
Th' infectious grasp, that his best half had caught:
There smil'd, their twisted souls, farewel, all fear;
We rise, together, to a Heaven, not here.

No—let 'em stay, to earth's dim dust confin'd,
Cross'd, in their clouded way, t'ward realms of mind.
'Twas not Death's drift to strike for—added bliss,
In next world, Angels—You're but Men in this.