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Poems on several occasions

Wesley, Samuel (1662-1735)

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VERSES UPON MY FATHER,

A POETICAL EPISTLE TO MY BROTHER CHARLES.

AN ELEGY ON DR. FRANCIS ATTERBURY,

THE SONG OF THE THREE CHILDREN.

TO MY SISTER LAMBERT, ON HER MARRIAGE.

TO MR. JUSON, ON HIS MARRIAGE.

TO MR. BOURNE, ON HIS MARRIAGE.

TO MR. PEARCE, ON HIS MARRIAGE.

LINES ON ROBERT NELSON, ESQ.,

ON DR. MIDDLETON.

WROOTE: A HEROIC POEM.

TO JAMES OGLETHORPE, ESQ.

UPON BISHOP ATTERBURY'S BIRTH-DAY.

ON BISHOP ATTERBURY'S ROASTING LORD CONINGSBY

ELEGIAC VERSES.

VERSES UPON MR. BEAR'S CAT,

A LETTER TO A FRIEND

TO MR. FITZGERALD, UPON HIS MARRIAGE.

A LETTER TO MR. KILNER ON HIS MARRIAGE.

ADDISON'S VERSES TO THE PRINCESS,

UPON THE PICTURES OF ONE MARRIED AND TWO MAIDEN SISTERS,

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE EARL OF OXFORD.

AN EPISTLE TO MY LORD OXFORD, 1732.

AN EPISTLE TO MY LORD OXFORD.

AN EPISTLE TO MY LORD OXFORD.

TO MR. FORESTER, ON HIS MARRIAGE.

TO MR. LLOYD, ON HIS MARRIAGE, 1732.

TO MR. JEWEL, ON HIS MARRIAGE.

AN ODE TO THE REV. DANIEL PRAT, M.A.

TO MISS B., ON HER GOING AWAY FROM THE WELLS AT NORTHAW, 1718.

WHIGS AND TORIES:

TO THE HONOURABLE THE LADY MARY HAY. 1731.

A DIALOGUE BETWEEN THOMAS AND HIS CASSOCK.

A SATIRE AGAINST SNUFF.

WEDLOCK: A SATIRE.

TO MISS MARTHA WESLEY.

AN ELEGY ON MR. CHARLES WESLEY,

TO MY WIFE, ON HER BIRTH-DAY.

ANACREONTICS TO MY WIFE.

FOR A SICK CHILD.

ON THE DEATH OF A DAUGHTER.

“A WOUNDED SPIRIT WHO CAN BEAR?”

EPITAPHIUM VIVI.

AN EPISTLE TO ME.

EPILOGUE TO ADELPHI.

EPILOGUE TO THE SAME.

EPILOGUE TO THE SAME.

PROLOGUE TO “THE EUNUCH.”

PROLOGUE, 1716.

HENLEY'S SHIELD.

TO CHRISTOPHER RHODES, ESQ.,

SPANISH INSULTS, 1729.

A LETTER FROM A GENTLEMAN AT AVIGNON TO HIS MISTRESS HERE:

AN EPISTLE TO MY LORD ORRERY, 1738.

PROLOGUE TO MR. BRADY'S COMEDY, CALLED, “HONESTY IS THE BEST POLICY; OR, THE RAKE DISAPPOINTED:”

LINES ON A REPORT THAT DUKE WHARTON WAS EXPELLED A LODGE OF FREE-MASONS.

ON A LINE IN “THE CHARACTER OF A COUNTRY PARSON:”

TO CAPTAIN EARLE.

SATIRICAL POETRY

EPIGRAMS: FROM THE GREEK.

TO W. COLMAN, ESQ., 1737.

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“A WOUNDED SPIRIT WHO CAN BEAR?”

I

What ease, what medicine for a wounded mind?
Why to the wretch are sense and being given?
Why should I live, or wherefore die, to find
Nor ease on earth, nor yet repose in heaven?

572

II

My breast still swells with unavailing sighs;
My eyes still flow with unvailing tears:
Tears that, unbid, gush silent from my eyes;
Sighs where true, genuine, secret grief appears.

III

With taste most exquisite of every bliss,
Stranger to joys, I every sorrow feel;
While in myself the cure neglected lies,
I see and like the good, but do the ill.

IV

Curst by myself, I of myself complain;
As none the guilt, let none the torment, share!
'Tis sore, distracting anguish, bitter pain,
Sure, full damnation of extreme despair!