#EnglishWriters
Seest thou younder craggy Rock, Whose Head o’er-looks the swellin… Where never Shepherd fed his Floc… Or careful Peasant sow’d his Grai… No wholesome Herb grows on the sa…
Amintor. Stay gentle Nymph, nor s… To fly his sight that still would… With other Swaines I see thee oft… Content to speak, and hear what th… But I unhappy, when I e’re draw n…
Next Heaven my Vows to thee (O S… I offer’d up, nor didst thou them… O Queen of Verse, said I, if tho… And warm my Soul with thy Poetiqu… No Love of Gold shall share with…
The Sun’s my Fire, when it does s… The hollow Spring’s my Cave of W… The Rocks and Woods afford me Me… This Lamb and I on one Dish eat: The neighbouring Herds my Garment…
Under the Discipline of an Excell… How comes the Day orecast? the Fl… Darkn’d at Noon, as if his Course… He never rose more proud, more gla… Ne’re courted Daphne with a brigh…
Melibæus, Alcippe, Asteria, Lic… Melibæus. Welcome fair Nymphs, m… Distemp’ring Heats do now the Pla… But you may sit, from Sun securel… If you an old mans company not fea…
Tell me thou safest End of all ou… Why wreched Mortals do avoid thee… Thou gentle drier o’th’ afflicteds… Thou noble ender of the Cowards F… Thou sweet Repose to Lovers sad d…
Return my dearest Lord, at length… Let me no longer your sad absence… Ilium in Dust, does no more Work… No more Employment for your Wit o… Why did not the fore-seeing Gods…
1 We deem them moderate, but En… 2 What barely will suffice, and… 3 Who say, (O Jove) a competenc… 4 Neither in Luxury, or Want we… 5 But what is that, which these…
Afflicted upon her Son, My Lord… So the renowned Ithacensian Queen In Tears for her Telemachus was s… When leaving Home, he did attempt… Of rageing Seas, to seek his abse…
We are Diana’s Virgin-Train, Descended of no Mortal Strain; Our Bows and Arrows are our Good… Our Pallaces, the lofty Woods, The Hills and Dales, at early Mo…
As you are Young, if you’l be als… Danger with Honour court, Quarrel… Believe you then are truly Brave… To Beauty when no Slave, and less… When Vertue you dare own, not thi…
[I.] Arise my Dove, from mid’st of Pot… Thy sully’d Habitation leave, To Dust no longer cleave, Unworthy they of Heaven, that wil…
FArewel ye Unsubstantial Joyes, Ye Gilded Nothings, Gaudy Toyes, Too long ye have my Soul misled, Too long with Aiery Diet fed: But now my Heart ye shall no more
1 In that so temperate Soil Arc… 1 For fertile Pasturage by Poet… 2 Stands a steep Hill, whose lo… 3 Casts o’er the neighbouring P… 4 Close at its mossie Foot an a…