#EnglishWriters
For give me, fair One, nor resent The Lines to you I lately sent. They seem, as if your Form you pr… And ev’ry other Gift despis’d: When a discerning Eye may find,
Why are we Scholars plagu’d to wr… On Days devoted to Delight? In Honour of the King, I’d play Upon his Coronation Day: But as for Loyalty in Rhyme,
I beg your Scholar you’ll excuse, Who dares no more debase the Muse… My Mother says, If e’er she hears… I write again on worthless Peers, Whether they’re living Lords, or…
Dear Psyche, come, with chearful… And bless this desolated Place. O come! my sickly Couch attend, And ease the Anguish of your Frie… Thy Soul, with ev’ry Grace supply…
A wretch, in smoaky Dublin pent, Who rarely sees the Firmament, You graciously invite, to view The Sun’s enliv’ning Rays with yo… To change the Town for flow’ry Me…
Why, lovely Lelia, so depress’d? With wonted Smiles your Eyes ador… Drive gloomy Sorrow from your Bre… And shine out, beauteous, as the… The fair Pendarvis bid me try,
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…
A mother, who vast Pleasure finds In modelling her Childrens Minds; With whom, in exquisite Delight, She passes many a Winter Night; Mingles in ev’ry Play, to find
O thou, with ev’ry Virtue grac’d, Adorn’d with Wit, and Sense, and… Who, with a Goodness unconfin’d, Delight’st in blessing human Kind… Whose Woes so oft thy Peace destr…
And will your Goodness never have… And will you still persist to be m… To meet me still with that engagin… Still open, ardent, gen’rous, and… Still to advise, to aid, to cheer,…
To the late King of Britain a Sa… Which wild in the Woods of German… This Present so princely was trai… And knew how to eat, and to jump,… The Beaux, and the Belles, beheld…
When lately you acquitted me, With Carteret I din’d; And, in Return, (tho’ grievous) t… To Onslow I resign’d. ’Tis wise the happy Hour to seize…
I hope, Sir, by this you have fou… In visiting Airy, and seeing his… If Froth can delight you, you’re… And we know it gives Joy on a Bot… Your Friend would be very much me…
Go, Jealousy, Tormentress dire; On Lovers only seize: In Love, like Winds, you fan the… And make it higher blaze. But Friendship’s calmer, purer Jo…
The Picture strikes—'tis drawn wi… Well has the Poet play’d the Pain… Tho’ ’tis your Glory, yet, my Lor… I grieve the Features fit yoursel… But know, tho’ All agree the Pict…