#IrishWriters
To their Excellencies the Lords… The humble petition of Frances Ha… Who must starve and die a maid if… Humble sheweth, that I went to wa… was cold;
Gently stir and blow the fire, Lay the mutton down to roast, Dress it quickly, I desire, In the dripping put a toast, That I hunger may remove—
Ah! Strephon, how can you despise Her, who without thy pity dies! To Strephon I have still been tru… And of as noble blood as you; Fair issue of the genial bed,
TO THE LORD TREASURER… 1710 Atlas, we read in ancient song, Was so exceeding tall and strong, He bore the skies upon his back,
The Scottish hinds, too poor to h… In frosty nights their starving co… While not a blade of grass or hay Appears from Michaelmas to May, Must let their cattle range in vai…
At Market-Hill, as well appears By chronicle of ancient date, There stood for many hundred years A spacious thorn before the gate. Hither came every village maid,
Robin to beggars with a curse, Throws the last shilling in his pu… And when the coachman comes for pa… The rogue must call another day. Grave Harry, when the poor are pr…
THE shepherds and the nymphs were… Pleading before the Cyprian Queen… The counsel for the fair began Accusing the false creature, man. The brief with weighty crimes was…
The Farmer’s Goose, who in the S… Has fed without Restraint, or Tro… Grown fat with Corn and Sitting s… Can scarce get o’er the Barn-Door… And hardly waddles forth, to cool
This day, whate’er the Fates decr… Shall still be kept with joy by me… This day then let us not be told, That you are sick, and I grown ol… Nor think on our approaching ills,
LET me thy properties explain: A rotten cabin dropping rain: Chimneys, with scorn rejecting smo… Stools, tables, chairs, and bedste… Here elements have lost their uses…
When on my bosom thy bright eyes, Florinda, dart their heavenly beam… I feel not the least love surprise… Yet endless tears flow down in str… There’s nought so beautiful in the…
Of all inhabitants on earth, To man alone I owe my birth, And yet the cow, the sheep, the be… Are all my parents more than he: I, a virtue, strange and rare,
On Britain Europe’s safety lies, Britain is lost if Harley dies: Harley depends upon your skill: Think what you save, or what you k…
FROM India’s burning clime I’m… With cooling gales like zephyrs fr… Not Iris, when she paints the sky… Can show more different hues than… Nor can she change her form so fas…