| Poem Title | First Lines | Period | # Lines | # Reads |
| 1: A Letter To Sir George Etherege.[1] | To you who live in chill degree, | | 81 | 269 |
| 2: A Song For St Cecilia's Day,[1] 1687. | FROM harmony, from heavenly harmony | | 64 | 255 |
| 3: A Song To A Fair Young Lady, Going Out Of Town In The Spring. | Ask not the cause, why sullen Spring | | 24 | 277 |
| 4: A Song. | Fair, sweet, and young, receive a prize | | 18 | 262 |
| 5: A Song. | High state and honours to others impart | | 19 | 243 |
| 6: A Song. | Go tell Amynta, gentle swain, | | 16 | 243 |
| 7: Absalom And Achitophel.[1] | In pious times, ere priestcraft did begin, | | 2272 | 280 |
| 8: Alexander's Feast; Or, The Power Of Music. | Twas at the royal feast, for Persia won | | 187 | 231 |
| 9: All For Love | What flocks of critics hover here to-day, | | 3136 | 282 |
| 10: An Epilogue. | You saw our wife was chaste, yet thoroughly tried, | | 37 | 219 |
| 11: An Essay Upon Satire | How dull, and how insensible a beast | | 281 | 326 |
| 12: Annus Mirabilis: | In thriving arts long time had Holland grown, | | 1228 | 349 |
| 13: Astræa Redux. | The last great age, foretold by sacred rhymes, | | 327 | 282 |
| 14: Britannia Rediviva | Our vows are heard betimes! and Heaven takes care | | 360 | 276 |
| 15: Eleonora | As when some great and gracious monarch dies, | | 377 | 242 |
| 16: Epilogue For "The King's House."[1] | We act by fits and starts, like drowning men, | | 37 | 231 |
| 17: Epilogue To "Albion And Albanius." | After our Æsop's fable shown to-day, | | 34 | 237 |
| 18: Epilogue To "All For Love." | Poets, like disputants, when reasons fail, | | 41 | 296 |
| 19: Epilogue To "Mithridates, King Of Pontus;" By Nathan Lee, 1678. | You've seen a pair of faithful lovers die: | | 25 | 255 |
| 20: Epilogue To "Oedipus." | What Sophocles could undertake alone, | | 34 | 279 |
| 21: Epilogue To "The Husband His Own Cuckold." By Mr John Dryden, Jun., 1696.[1] | Like some raw sophister that mounts the pulpit, | | 39 | 222 |
| 22: Epilogue To "The Man Of Mode; Or, Sir Fopling Flutter;" By Sir George Etherege, 1676. | Most modern wits such monstrous fools have shown, | | 34 | 269 |
| 23: Epilogue To "The Pilgrim." | Perhaps the parson stretch'd a point too far, | | 47 | 274 |
| 24: Epilogue To Amboyna. | A Poet once the Spartans led to fight, | | 22 | 274 |
| 25: Epilogue To The Indian Emperor, By A Mercury. | To all and singular in this full meeting, | | 27 | 278 |
| 26: Epilogue To The Indian Queen. | You see what shifts we are enforced to try, | | 18 | 263 |
| 27: Epilogue To The Second Part Of The Conquest Of Granada. | They who have best succeeded on the stage, | | 34 | 252 |
| 28: Epilogue To The Wild Gallant, When Revived. | Of all dramatic writing, comic wit, | | 48 | 250 |
| 29: Epilogue, Intended To Have Been Spoken By The Lady Hen. Mar. Wentworth, When "Calisto"[1] Was Acted At Court. | As Jupiter I made my court in vain; | | 32 | 270 |
| 30: Epilogue, Spoken At Oxford, By Mrs Marshall. | Oft has our poet wish'd, this happy seat | | 32 | 255 |
| 31: Epilogue, Spoken By The Same. | No poor Dutch peasant, wing'd with all his fear, | | 37 | 228 |
| 32: Epitaph On Mrs Margaret Paston, Of Burningham In Norfolk. | So fair, so young, so innocent, so sweet, | | 9 | 223 |
| 33: Epitaph On Sir Palmes Fairbone's Tomb In Westminster Abbey. | Ye sacred relics, which your marble keep, | | 24 | 232 |
| 34: Epitaph On The Lady Whitmore. | Fair, kind, and true, a treasure each alone, | | 10 | 236 |
| 35: Heroic Stanzas On The Death Of Oliver Cromwell, Written After His Funeral. | And now 'tis time; for their officious haste, | | 148 | 259 |
| 36: Incantation In Oedipus. | Choose the darkest part o' th' grove, | | 26 | 239 |
| 37: Mac Flecknoe.[1] | All human things are subject to decay, | | 217 | 344 |
| 38: On The Death Of A Very Young Gentleman. | He who could view the book of destiny, | | 55 | 230 |
| 39: On The Death Of Amyntas. | Twas on a joyless and a gloomy morn, | | 84 | 230 |
| 40: On The Death Of Lord Hastings.[1] | Must noble Hastings immaturely die, | | 108 | 266 |
| 41: On The Death Of Mr Purcell. | Mark how the lark and linnet sing; | | 31 | 222 |
| 42: On The Monument Of A Fair Maiden Lady[1], Who Died At Bath, And Is There Interred. | Below this marble monument is laid | | 36 | 234 |
| 43: On The Monument Of The Marquis Of Winchester.[1] | He who in impious times undaunted stood, | | 16 | 295 |
| 44: On The Young Statesmen. | CLARENDON had law and sense, | 1680 | 30 | 225 |
| 45: Palamon And Arcite: Or, The Knight's Tale. | In days of old, there lived, of mighty fame, | | 2434 | 275 |
| 46: Prologue To "Albion And Albanius." | Full twenty years and more, our labouring stage | | 46 | 233 |
| 47: Prologue To "Albumazar."[1] | To say, this comedy pleased long ago, | | 48 | 217 |
| 48: Prologue To "Arvirgus And Philicia Revived." | With sickly actors and an old house too, | | 26 | 211 |
| 49: Prologue To "Aurengzebe." | Our author, by experience, finds it true, | | 40 | 249 |
| 50: Prologue To "Circe," A Tragic Opera; By Dr Davenant,[1] 1675. | Were you but half so wise as you're severe, | | 29 | 283 |
| 51: Prologue To "Cæsar Borgia;"[1] By Nathan Lee, 1680. | The unhappy man, who once has trail'd a pen, | | 42 | 270 |
| 52: Prologue To "Don Sebastian." Spoken By A Woman. | The judge removed, though he's no more my lord, | | 46 | 263 |
| 53: Prologue To "King Arthur." Spoken By Mr Betterton. | Sure there's a dearth of wit in this dull town, | | 49 | 236 |
| 54: Prologue To "Limberham." | True wit has seen its best days long ago; | | 28 | 269 |
| 55: Prologue To "Oedipus." | When Athens all the Grecian state did guide, | | 36 | 303 |
| 56: Prologue To "Sophonisba," | Thespis, the first professor of our art, | | 30 | 275 |
| 57: Prologue To "The Earl Of Essex; Or, The Unhappy Favourite;" By Mr J. Banks, 1682. | When first the ark was landed on the shore, | | 34 | 218 |
| 58: Prologue To "The King And Queen."[1] | Since faction ebbs, and rogues grow out of fashion, | | 42 | 246 |
| 59: Prologue To "The Loyal Brother; Or, The Persian Prince;"[1] By Mr Southern, 1682. | POETS, like lawful monarchs, ruled the stage, | | 54 | 244 |
| 60: Prologue To "The Loyal General;" By Mr Tate, 1680. | If yet there be a few that take delight | | 34 | 265 |
| 61: Prologue To "The Mistakes." By Joseph Harris, Comedian, 1690. (Written By Some Other.) | Gentlemen, we must beg your pardon; here's no Prologue to be had | | 51 | 220 |
| 62: Prologue To "The Pilgrim." By Beaumont And Fletcher. | How wretched is the fate of those who write! | | 54 | 231 |
| 63: Prologue To "The Prophetess."[1] By Beaumont And Fletcher. | What Nostradame, with all his art, can guess | | 52 | 250 |
| 64: Prologue To "Troilus And Cressida." | See, my loved Britons, see your Shakspeare rise, | | 40 | 261 |
| 65: Prologue To Amboyna.[1] | As needy gallants in the scrivener's hands, | | 34 | 275 |
| 66: Prologue To Sir Martin Marr-All. | Fools, which each man meets in his dish each day, | | 16 | 250 |
| 67: Prologue To The Indian Queen. | Wake, wake, Quevira! our soft rest must cease, | | 22 | 250 |
| 68: Prologue To The Rival Ladies. | Tis much desired, you judges of the town | | 38 | 281 |
| 69: Prologue To The Tempest. | As when a tree's cut down, the secret root | | 38 | 275 |
| 70: Prologue To The University Of Oxford, 1674. | Poets, your subjects have their parts assign'd | | 39 | 271 |
| 71: Prologue To The University Of Oxford, Spoken By Mr Hart, At The Acting Of "The Silent Woman." | What Greece, when learning flourish'd, only knew, | | 46 | 226 |
| 72: Prologue To The University Of Oxford. | Discord and plots, which have undone our age, | | 36 | 232 |
| 73: Prologue To The University Of Oxford. | Though actors cannot much of learning boast, | | 38 | 229 |
| 74: Prologue To Tyrannic Love. | Self-love, which, never rightly understood, | | 25 | 255 |
| 75: Prologue. Spoken At The Opening Of The New House, March 26, 1674. | A plain-built house, after so long a stay, | | 53 | 288 |
| 76: Prologue. Spoken The First Day Of The King's House Acting After The Fire Of London. | So shipwreck'd passengers escape to land, | | 30 | 275 |
| 77: Prologue[1] To His Royal Highness, | In those cold regions which no summers cheer, | | 44 | 280 |
| 78: Prologue[1] To The University Of Oxford, 1681. | The famed Italian Muse, whose rhymes advance | | 30 | 269 |
| 79: Religio Laici; Or, A Layman's Faith. | Dim as the borrow'd beams of moon and stars | | 452 | 294 |
| 80: Rondelay. | Chloe found Amyntas lying, | | 24 | 213 |
| 81: Satire On The Dutch.[1] | As needy gallants, in the scrivener's hands, | | 44 | 285 |
| 82: Song In The "Maiden Queen." | I feed a flame within, which so torments me, | | 16 | 216 |
| 83: Song Of A Scholar And His Mistress, | Look, look I see--I see my love appear! | | 40 | 252 |
| 84: Song Of Jealousy, In Love Triumphant. | What state of life can be so blest | | 30 | 276 |
| 85: Song Of The Sea-Fight, In Amboyna. | Who ever saw a noble sight, | | 24 | 207 |
| 86: Song. Farewell, Fair Armida. | Farewell, fair Armida, my joy and my grief, | | 16 | 225 |
| 87: Songs In "The Conquest Of Granada." | Wherever I am, and whatever I do, | | 58 | 222 |
| 88: Songs In Albion And Albanius. | Cease, Augusta! cease thy mourning, | | 49 | 229 |
| 89: Songs In King Arthur. | Come, if you dare, our trumpets sound; | | 91 | 209 |
| 90: Songs In The "Indian Emperor." | Ah, fading joy! how quickly art thou past! | | 26 | 247 |
| 91: The Character Of A Good Parson.[1] | A parish priest was of the pilgrim train; | | 140 | 258 |
| 92: The Cock And The Fox: Or, The Tale Of The Nun's Priest. | There lived, as authors tell, in days of yore, | | 822 | 247 |
| 93: The Fair Stranger.[1] | Happy and free, securely blest, | | 16 | 239 |
| 94: The Flower And The Leaf: Or, The Lady In The Arbour.[1] | Now turning from the wintry signs, the sun, | | 618 | 283 |
| 95: The Hind And The Panther. | A milk-white Hind, immortal and unchanged, | | 2602 | 279 |
| 96: The Lady's Song.[1] | A Choir of bright beauties in spring did appear, | | 18 | 236 |
| 97: The Medal.[1] | Of all our antic sights and pageantry, | | 321 | 287 |
| 98: The Secular Masque.[1] | Chronos, Chronos, mend thy pace; | | 108 | 302 |
| 99: The Tears Of Amynta, For The Death Of Damon. | On a bank, beside a willow, | | 27 | 220 |
| 100: The Wife Of Bath, Her Tale. | In days of old, when Arthur fill'd the throne, | | 546 | 246 |
| 101: Threnodia Augustalis: | Thus long my grief has kept me dumb: | | 518 | 273 |
| 102: To Henry Higden,[1] Esq., On His Translation Of The Tenth Satire Of Juvenal. | The Grecian wits, who Satire first began, | | 43 | 243 |
| 103: To Her Grace The Duchess Of Ormond,[1] | The bard who first adorn'd our native tongue, | | 170 | 262 |
| 104: To Her Royal Highness The Duchess,[1] | Madam, When, for our sakes, your hero you resign'd | | 58 | 272 |
| 105: To His Friend The Author, John Hoddesdon, On His Divine Epigrams. | Thou hast inspired me with thy soul, and I | | 26 | 305 |
| 106: To His Sacred Majesty. | In that wild deluge where the world was drown'd, | | 136 | 246 |
| 107: To Mr Granville,[1] On His Excellent Tragedy Called "Heroic Love." | Auspicious poet, wert thou not my friend, | | 40 | 243 |
| 108: To Mr Lee, On His "Alexander." | The blast of common censure could I fear, | | 54 | 235 |
| 109: To Mr Southerne, On His Comedy Called "The Wives' Excuse." | Sure there's a fate in plays, and 'tis in vain | | 31 | 237 |
| 110: To My Dear Friend Mr Congreve, On His Comedy Called "The Double-Dealer." | Well, then, the promised hour is come at last, | | 77 | 210 |
| 111: To My Friend Mr J. Northleigh, Author Of "The Parallel," On His "Triumph Of The British Monarchy." | So Joseph, yet a youth, expounded well | | 14 | 211 |
| 112: To My Friend Mr Motteux,[1] On His Tragedy Called "Beauty In Distress." | Tis hard, my friend, to write in such an age, | | 55 | 222 |
| 113: To My Honoured Friend Dr Charleton | The longest tyranny that ever sway'd, | | 58 | 224 |
| 114: To My Honoured Friend Sir Robert Howard,[1] On His Excellent Poems. | As there is music uninform'd by art | | 106 | 264 |
| 115: To My Honoured Kinsman, John Dryden,[1] Of Chesterton, In The County Of Huntingdon, Esq. | How bless'd is he who leads a country life, | | 209 | 227 |
| 116: To Sir Godfrey Kneller, Principal Painter To His Majesty.[1] | Once I beheld the fairest of her kind, | | 166 | 207 |
| 117: To The Duchess Of York, On Her Return From Scotland In The Year 1682. | When factious rage to cruel exile drove | | | 226 |
| 118: To The Earl Of Roscommon, On His Excellent Essay On Translated Verse. | Whether the fruitful Nile, or Tyrian shore, | | 78 | 238 |
| 119: To The Lady Castlemain,[1] Upon Her Encouraging His First Play. | As seamen, shipwreck'd on some happy shore, | | 52 | 215 |
| 120: To The Lord Chancellor Hyde.[1] | My Lord, While flattering crowds officiously appear | | 157 | 216 |
| 121: To The Memory Of Mr Oldham.[1] | Farewell, too little, and too lately known, | | 25 | 183 |
| 122: To The Pious Memory Of The Accomplished Young Lady Mrs Anne Killigrew,[1] Excellent In The Two Sister Arts Of Poesy And Painting. | Thou youngest virgin-daughter of the skies, | 1685 | 195 | 183 |
| 123: Under Mr Milton's Picture, Before His Paradise Lost.[1] | Three Poets, in three distant ages born, | | 6 | 219 |
| 124: Upon The Death Of The Earl Of Dundee.[1] | Oh, last and best of Scots! who didst maintain | | 8 | 194 |
| 125: Upon Young Mr Rogers Of Gloucestershire. | Of gentle blood, his parents' only treasure, | | 8 | 187 |
| 126: Veni Creator Spiritus, Paraphrased. | CREATOR SPIRIT, by whose aid | | 39 | 245 |
