An Epistle To Sir John Blount City: London (Nicholas Amhurst Poems)
Wonder not Blount, whose magick HandLifts to the Clouds thy native Land,That in these busy, golden Times,Thy Ears are teaz'd ...
Wonder not Blount, whose magick HandLifts to the Clouds thy native Land,That in these busy, golden Times,Thy Ears are teaz'd ...
Hail to the Man, whom sacred thirst of FameAmongst the stars enroll'd a shining Name!In whose great Soul Apollo fix'd ...
Of all the Belles that tread the Stage,There's none like pretty Polly,And all the Musick of the Age,Except her Voice, ...
Of all the Belles that tread the Stage,There's none like pretty Polly,And all the Musick of the Age,Except her Voice, ...
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