Annotated Chronology: Anne Finch
Index of First Lines
- A -
Absence in Love effects the
same
Absence in love effects the
same
Ah! fare thee weel dear Sutton
Toon
Alas, I walk not out, but still I
meet
Alleluja Sollemn Strain
All flie th'unhappy, and I all wou'd
flie
All your sighs, to air are turning [Song
from Triumphs/Queen Cypress]
[First line unknown.] Title: An Answer
to Mirtilla
Appollo, as lately a Circuit he
made
A Quack, to no true Skill in Physick
bred
As Merc'ry travell'd thro' a
Wood,
As great a character the Poet
draws
As Servile Preachers, who Preferment
wait
At last, my old invetrate foe
The audience seems to night so very
kind
- B -
Bachus, to thee that turn'st the
brain
Beaumont in the beginning of a
Coppy of Verses . . .
Begin, our Nation's Pleasure and
Reproach!
Blest be the Man (his memory at
least)
Blest is the Soul which loos'd from
sordid Earth
A Brazen Pot, by scouring
vext
By love pursu'd, in vain I flye
By neer resemblance see that Bird
betray'd
By strange Events to Sollitude
betray'd
- C -
Call Delia Whore, Friends guard &
Foes infest
Cease Mirtilla & c.
A Citizen of mighty Pelf
Clarilla, where's the Queen? [Triumphs/Queen Cypress]
Cosmelia's charmes inspire my
Lays
Cou'd Rivers weep (as somtimes
Poets dream)
Cou'd our first Father at his toilsome
Plough
Cou'd we stop the time that's
flying
Cupid e're depriv'd of sight
CUPID, one day ask'd his
Mother
- D -
Damon, whilst thus, wee nightly watches keep
Daphnis no more your wishe
repeat
Dark was the shade where only cou'd
be seen
Did I my Lines intend for publick
view
Disarm'd with so genteel an
air
Dorinda since you must
decay
Double Allegiance, Lord, to thee I
owe
- E -
An Epilogue, after a tedious Play [Aristomenes]
Exert thy voyce, sweet Harbinger of
Spring
- F -
Fair Tree, for thy delightfull
shade,
FAir youth! who wish the Wars may
cease,
FArewel, lov'd Youth! since 'twas the
Will of Heaven
Far, from Societies where I have
place
Fate, 'till the Day was Ours, wou'd
not dispense
A Female Friend advis'd a
Swain
A Female, to a Drunkard
marry'd
A Fond Athenian Mother
brought
For can our correspondence
please
FOR He, that made, must new create
us
FOR Socrates a House was
built
Fortune well-pictur'd on a rolling
Globe
For the soft Joys of Love no longer
last
'Friend! if I'm late, excuse the
failing
From me who whileom sung the
Town
From the Park, and the Play
From the sweet pleasure of a rural
seat
- G -
A Gentleman, most wretched in his
Lot
Gentlest Air thou breath of
Lovers
Give me, oh! indulgent Fate
Give me, Oh!--2nd petition poem
pasted over
Good Heav'n, I thank thee, Since it
was design'd
A Greedy Heir long waited to
fulfill
- H -
Hark! sure I hear Urania play
Hartford 'tis wrong if Poets may
complain
Hast thou provided me a horse and arms? [Aristomenes]
Here will I wait . . . I may grant
Hither, Ardelia I your Stepps
Pursue
How dear is Reputation
bought
How far the sweets of Solitude
excel
How gayly is at first
begun
How ill the Motion with the Musick
suits!
HOW is it in this chilling
time
How is it that my lifted Eyes
How plain dear Madam was
the want of sight
How shall I wooe thee gentle rest
How vain is Life which rightly we
compare
How weak is man, that would himself
perswade
- I -
I am thine O save me Lord
I having seen (out of the love of
novelty) many Plays brought
If all th'appointed dayes of man were
fair
If for a Woman I wou'd dye
If from some lonely and obscure
recesse
If the Possession of Imperial
Sway
If we those Gen'rous Sons,
deserv'dly Praise
I grant thee no pretence to
Bays
Immortal Venus, to whose Name
In Church the Prayer-Book, and the
Fan display'd
IN dire Contest the Rats and
Weazles met
Indulg'd by every active thought
In love, who to a cure
aspires
IN Fanscomb Barn (who knows not
Fanscomb Barn?)
In Station joyn'd, when prosperous
days prevail'd
In such a Night, when every louder
Wind
IN Vulgar Minds what Errors do
arise!
It must not be nor can the
grave
I've searcht the barren World, but
cannot find
- J -
Joy from a zealous pen Ardelia
sends
- K -
Kinde bird, thy Praises, I
designe,
- L -
Let no bold Pray'r presume to
rise
Lett the Fool still be true
Life at best
The long the long expected Hour is
come
Love, but lett this concern you
most
Love, give thy traine of Slaves away
[Song from Triumphs/Queen Cypress]
Love, thou art best of humane
Joys
- M -
Madam--'till pow'rfully convinc'd by
You
A MAN whose house had taken
fire
A MASTY of our English
breed
Me, dear Ephelia, me, in vain you
court
MEthinks this World is oddly
made
Miranda hides her from the
Sunne
More then a Sea of tears, can
show
Mourn all ye Loves, the fair Adonis
dyes
THE Muse, of ev'ry heav'nly gift
allow'd
The Muses frolicksom and
gay
My God Oh that my soul cou'd
stay
- N -
Nature, in Pity, has deny'd you
Shape
Never trifle with a Disease
NO better Dog e'er kept his Master's
Door
NO Cautions of a Matron, Old and
Sage
Nor envy nor the tongue with faction
backt
No sooner Daphnis [1713: Flavio] was
you gone
Now age came on and all the
dismall traine
Now blow, ye Southern winds, with
full release
Now, spent the alter'd King, in am'rous
cares
The Nymph in vain, bestows her
Pains
The NYMPH whose Virgin-heart thy
charms have taught
- O -
Observe this Piece, which to our sight
does bring
Of sleepless nights, and days with
cares o'ercast
Of this small tribute of my
wit
Oh! friendship, how prevailing is thy
force.
Oh grief, why hast thou so much
pow'r
Oh lett my Tears begin for whilst the
staine
Oh! Praise the Lord, and let his ffame
be told
O King of Terrours, whose unbounded
sway
O Man! what Inspiration was thy
Guide"
Ombre and Basset laid
aside
On me then Sir as on a
friend
ON the Banks of the Severn a
desperate Maid
Over a cheerful cup 'tis
thought
- P -
Peace, where art thou to be
found
A Peevish Fellow laid his
Head
Perswade me not, there is a
grace
Pitty, the softest Attribute
Above
A pleasing wonder throo' my fancy
moves
Poor River, now thou'rt almost
dry
The Preacher thus, to Man, his
speech adrest
Pretty Nymph within this
Shade
The Pretious hours of flying
Youth
Prithee Friend that Hedge
behold
Protect the State and let old England
thrive
Proud Babylon, thou Saw'st us
weep
- Q -
THE Queen of Birds, t'encrease the
Regal Stock
Quickly Delia learn my
passion
Quoth the Swains who got in at the
late Masquerade
- R -
Reputation, Love, and
Death
- S -
Say Lovely Nymph, where dost thou
dwell?
See! Phoebus, breaking from the
willing Skyes,
Seraphick Sound! Eternal
Praise
The Sheep a people void of strife
She is not fair you criticks of the
Town
A Shepherd seeking with his
Lass
She Sigh'd, but soon it mixt with
common air
Silvia letts from the Crowd
retire
Since the Road of Life's so
ill
Sir plausible as 'tis well
known
Snatch'd from the verge of the
devouring grave
So here confin'd, and but to female
Clay
SOoner I'd praise a Cloud which
Light beguiles
SOothing his Passions with a
warb'ling Sound
The South Sea affair is what I now
Sing
Stay Lovely viper, hast not on
Strephon whose person ev'ry
grace
Such was Stattira, when young
Ammon woo'd
Sure of successe, to you I boldly
write
Sure there's a Zeal that's born of
heav'nly Race
- T -
Then, by some fountain's flow'ry
side
Then, to the snowy Ewe, in thy
esteem
THINK not a partial fondness sway'd
my mind
Thirsis, to thee I mean that Name to
show
This matchless Picture, Jervas,
hide
Though Caesar falling, shew'd no sign
of fear
Though wee of Small Proportion
see
This Day, sais Ralpho, I was
free
This to the Crown, and blessing of my
Life
Through every Age some Tyrant
passion reigns
Thus reason'd they said he, but not
aright
THUS Tapistry of old, the Walls
adorn'd,
Thy workmanship, O Lord I
am
'Tis fitt Serena shou'd be
sung
Tis strange, this heart within my
breast,
Thee woundrous Being excellently
great
The treach'rous Fortune of a Royal
Crown
Tho Sir I do much value set
Tho' to Antiquity the praise we
yeild
A Thriving Merchant, who no Loss
sustain'd
'Tis not my Lord that verse with me
'Tis now my dearest friend become
your turn
'Tis true I write and tell me by what
Rule
'Tis true Mirtillo 'twas a fault
'Tis true of courage I'm no
mistress
Titus of all Mankind the Love
engros't
A TOAD just crawling up to
town
To all you sparkling Whiggs at
Court
To Coleshill Seat of Noble
Pen
To the Almighty on his radiant
throne
To thee encreaser of my
days
This dismal Morn when East Winds
blow
To the still Covert of a
Wood
To the Superior World to Solemn
Peace
TO view his stately Walks and
Groves
To write in verse has been my
pleasing choice
Their piety th'Egyptians show'd by
Art
The tree of Knowledge, we in Eden
prov'd
A tree the fairest in the
wood
Turenne with sleeping Monarchs lies
enterr'd
'Twas long debated, wheither to a
Play [Don Carlos Prologue]
'Twas scarce the dawn nor yet the
distant East
Twice in our Solitude has now
appear'd
Two long had lov'd and now the
Nymph desir'd
- U -
URANIA, whom the Town
admires
- V -
Vain Love, why dos't thou boast of
wings
Venus who did her Bird
impart
- W -
Warmth in my heart and wonder in
my thought
WEary, at last of the Pindarick
Way
A wealthy and a generous
Lord
We did attempt to travell all Last
night
Welcome what e're my tender flesh
may say
What art thou Spleen, which ev'ry
thing doest ape?
What dogs can do & what they'd
say
What Fate within itts Bosome
carry's
What freindship is, Ardelia
shew?
When Caesar fell, he
brav'd each killing wound
When, dear Teresa, shall I be
When first upon the Stage a Play
appears [Aristomenes Prologue]
When from th'Infernal pitt two Furies
rose
When Mars the Lemnian Darts
survey'd
When my Aminta weeps 'tis
sure
When Phoebus, at declining of the
day
When Poets gave their God in
Creete a Birth
When such a day, blesst the
Arcadian plaine
Whereas 'tis spread about the
Town
WHere is that World, to which the
Fancy flies
Where is the trust in human
things
Whilst H--ley with more near
approaches blest
Whilst Monarks in stern Battels
strove
Whilst Thirsis, in his Pride of
Youth
Whilst with his falling Wings, the
courtly Dove
WHO does not wish, ever to judge
aright
Who is this from Edom
moves?
Why are my steps with held. What
bids me stay
Who e'er of Satyre does my pen
accuse
Why doest thou still give way to such
dispair?
WHY, to our Wonder, in this Place is
seen
WHY was that baleful Creature
made
With all respect and humble
duty
Within a Meadow, on the
way
With such a pulse, with such
disorder'd veins
Witt as free and confin'd
A WIT, transported with Inditing
Wonder not Madam, that the Muses
pay
Wou'd we attain the happy'st
State
Wretched Amintor with a flame [Song from
Aristomenes]
A Wretch long tortur'd with
Disdain
- Y -
Ye Lads and ye Lasses that live at
Long-Leat
A yong shepheard his life [Song from Aristomenes]
You have obey'd, you Winds that
must fullfill
You, when your body, life shall
leave
You who remote in London
lye
Forest (1748) by Thomas Gainsborough (1727-1788)
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