#IrishWriters
Spite of Dutch friends and Englis… Poor Britain shall have peace at… Holland got towns, and we got blow… But Dunkirk’s ours, we’ll hold it… We have got it in a string,
“His Grace! impossible! what, dea… Of old age too, and in his bed! And could that mighty warrior fall… And so inglorious, after all? Well, since he’s gone, no matter h…
We are little airy creatures, All of different voice and feature… One of us in glass is set, One of us you’ll find in jet. T’other you may see in tin,
Careful Observers may fortel the… (By sure Prognosticks) when to dr… While Rain depends, the pensive C… Her Frolicks, and pursues her Tai… Returning Home at Night, you’ll f…
From a town that consists of a chu… With three or four houses, and as… There went an Address in great fo… Composed, as ’tis said, by Will C… And thus it began to an excellent…
Midas, we are in story told, Turn’d every thing he touch’d to g… He chipp’d his bread; the pieces r… Glitter’d like spangles on the gro… A codling, ere it went his lip in,
This city can omit no opportunity of expressing their hearty affection for her majesty’s person and government; and their regard for your grace, who has the honour of representing her i...
From distant regions Fortune send… An odd triumvirate of friends; Where Phoebus pays a scanty stipe… Where never yet a codling ripen’d: Hither the frantic goddess draws
Deprived of root, and branch and r… Yet flowers I bear of every kind: And such is my prolific power, They bloom in less than half an ho… Yet standers-by may plainly see
Corinna, Pride of Drury-Lane, For whom no Shepherd sighs in vai… Never did Covent Garden boast So bright a batter’d, strolling T… No drunken Rake to pick her up,
Frail glass! thou mortal art as we… Though none can tell which of us f…
Her dead lady’s joy and comfort, Who departed this life The last day of March, 1727: To the great joy of Bryan That his antagonist is gone.
Death went upon a solemn day At Pluto’s hall his court to pay; The phantom having humbly kiss’d His grisly monarch’s sooty fist, Presented him the weekly bills
By something form’d, I nothing am… Yet everything that you can name; In no place have I ever been, Yet everywhere I may be seen; In all things false, yet always tr…
I’m up and down, and round about, Yet all the world can’t find me ou… Though hundreds have employ’d thei… They never yet could find my measu… I’m found almost in every garden,