#EnglishWriters
Lovely Armina, o’er her Books rec… Impairs her Body, to improve her… Of Wisdom fond, as others are of… In that Pursuit will sacrifice he… Then, Miser—like, when she has ga…
I grieve to think that Waller’s b… Waller, so long, so justly, fam’d. Then own your Verses writ in Hast… Or I shall say, you’ve lost your… Perhaps your loyal Heart disdains
Where—e’er you go, some Actions s… Which make the Goodness of your M… Hibernia early saw those Seeds of… In your fair Breast, which now sh… Foresaw the Hopes you gave, matur…
Uncommon Charms, I plainly see, Compleat the Fair for Tyranny. Then, lest your Form should make… Of Conquest, and of giving Pain, Those, whom your Beauties have en…
This mourning Mother can with Eas… The Arts of Latium, and the Grec… Was early learn’d, nay more, was e… And knew the Pride of Science to… Left Men to take assuming Airs fr…
WHAT is it our mamma’s bewitches… To plague us little boys with bree… To tyrant Custom we must yield, Whilst vanquish’d Reason flies th… Our legs must suffer by ligation,
When Cynthia, Regent of the Tide… Pale in meridian Pride presides; A Sov’reign Pow’r the Goddess cl… O’er Seas, and Sea—supplying Str… The River of the richest Source
Welcome, thou sacred, solemn Gues… Who com’st to guide me to the Ble… O Fountain of eternal Truth, Thou gracious Guardian of my Yout… True Wisdom to my Soul dispense,
Ye gentle Beaux, and thoughtless… Who gaily rove at Tunbridge—Wells… With Pockets full; and empty Look… Raffling for ev’ry Toy—but Books: Should Addison’s immortal Page
How gladly, Madam, would I go, To see your Gardens, and Chateau; From thence the fine Improvements… Or walk your verdant Avenue; Delighted, hear the Thrushes sing…
May each new Year some new Perfec… Till all the Mother in the Daught… May’st Thou her Virtues to the W… And be what Henrietta was before! And when revolving Years mature t…
Sophronia, all the World agree, The Soul of Friendship dwells in… Let Envy other Gifts dispute, Since here the Fury must be mute. Without one vain, one venal View,
Obrian, were in Story told, Thy Ancestors wore Crowns of old: In fair Hibernia’s Isle they reig… A Country, by their Sons disdain’… Too apt to charge their Native Is…
Eternal King, is there one Hour, To make me greatly bless’d? When shall I have it in my Pow’r To succour the Distress’d? In vain, alas! my Heart o’erflows
Shall for the Man of Ross thy Ly… And sleeps illustrious Thanet yet… Since to distinguish Merit is thy… Let Thanet in thy deathless Prais… Let me, unequal to the Task, exci…