#EnglishWriters
The roses of Love glad the garden… Though nurtur’d 'mid weeds droppin… Till Time crops the leaves with u… Or prunes them for ever, in Love’… In vain, with endearments, we soot…
If, for silver or for gold, You could melt ten thousand pimple… Into half a dozen dimples, Then your face we might behold, Looking, doubtless, much more snug…
WARRIORS and chiefs! should th… Pierce me in leading the host of t… Heed not the corse, though a king’… Bury your steel in the bosoms of… Thou who art bearing my buckler an…
Oh, Anne, your offences to me hav… I thought from my wrath no atoneme… But woman is made to command and d… I look 'd in your face, and I alm… I vow’d I could ne’er for a momen…
It is the hour when from the bough… The nightingale’s high note is hea… It is the hour—when lover’s vows Seem sweet in every whisper’d word… And gentle winds and waters near,
ÃGLE, beauty and poet, has two l… She makes her own face, and does n…
‘But if any old lady, knight, prie… Should condemn me for printing a s… If good Madam Squintum my work sh… May I venture to give her a smack… CANDOUR compels me, BECHER!…
Dear Doctor, I have read your pla… Which is a good one in its way, Purges the eyes and moves the bowe… And drenches handkerchiefs like to… With tears, that, in a flux of gri…
Oh Venice! Venice! when thy marbl… Are level with the waters, there s… A cry of nations o’er thy sunken h… A loud lament along the sweeping s… If I, a northern wanderer, weep f…
Eternal Spirit of the chainless M… Brightest in dungeons, Liberty, t… For there thy habitation is the he… The heart which love of thee alone… And when thy sons to fetters are c…
How pleasant were the songs of To… When Summer’s Sun went down the c… Come, let us to the islet’s softes… And hear the warbling birds I the… The wood-dove from the forest dept…
Come, blue-eyed maid of heaven!-bu… Didst never yet one mortal song in… Goddess of Wisdom! here thy templ… And is, despite of war and wasting… And years, that bade thy worship t…
When we two parted In silence and tears, Half broken-hearted To sever for years, Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
The antique Persians taught three… To draw the bow, to ride, and spea… This was the mode of Cyrus, best… A mode adopted since by modern you… Bows have they, generally with two…
Weep, daughter of a royal line, A Sire’s disgrace, a realm’s deca… Ah! happy if each tear of thine Could wash a father’s fault away! Weep—for thy tears are Virtue’s t…