Pause here, and think: a monitory rhyme 324
Pay me my price, potters! and I will sing. 507
Peace has unveiled her smiling face.
Perfida, crudelis, victa et lymphata furore 335
Pity, says the Theban bard
Plangimus fortes. Periêre fortes
Poets attempt the noblest task they can
Poor in my youth, and in life's later scenes
Poor Vestris, grieved beyond all measure. 336
Populeæ cecidit gratissima copia silvæ. 323
Praise in old times the sage Prometheus won 445
Quæ lenta accedit, quam velox præterit
hora
Take to thy bosom, gentle Earth! a swain 499
Tears flow, and cease not, where the good
Thankless for favours from on high
That thou mayst injure no nian, dove-like be 497
The astrologers did all alike presage
The Bard, if e'er he feel at all
The beams of April, ere it goes
The billows swell, the winds are high
The birds put off their every hue.
Thee, whose refulgent staff, and summons
clear.
The genius of the Augustan age
The greenhouse is my summer seat
The lady thus addressed her spouse
The lapse of time and rivers is the same
The Lord proclaims his grace abroad
The Lord receives his highest praise
The Lord will happiness divine
The lover, in melodious verses
The new-born child of Gospel grace
The noon was shady, and soft airs
That ocean you of late surveyed