#IrishWriters
Holy Jesus! God of Love! Look with pity from above, Shed the precious purple tide From thine hands, thy feet, thy si… Let thy streams of comfort roll,
Lovely, lasting peace of mind! Sweet delight of human-kind! Heavenly-born, and bred on high, To crown the fav’rites of the sky With more of happiness below,
O Tell if any fate you see Can more unhappy prove Than where the nymph will cruell b… & still the swain must love Twere Joy to sigh & serve a f…
Think England what it is to shake… & better use your King, His power raisd the frozen snake, & Must he when he hears it spe… find how the tongue can sting?
How nicely fair Phillis you manag… You neither reproach nor approve h… Just keep him in play wth ye hopes… Not give him enough that you’le lo… Tis tyrrany ruling in love wth suc…
Hadst thou but livd before ye God… That Heathens ownd ye world might… ‘If any settled seat ye Muses use ’Thou art that seat or art thy sel…
In Biddy’s Cheeks ye roses blow In Cattys nose they rise From Biddys lips soft accents flo… And streams from Catty’s Eyes The jet that Biddy’s brows displa…
My thought, on views of admiration… Intently ravish’d and depriv’d of… Now darts a while on earth, a whil… Here mov’d with praise and mov’d w… The joys entrancing and the mute s…
The beam-repelling mists arise, And evening spreads obscurer skies… The twilight will the night foreru… And night itself be soon begun. Upon thy knees devoutly bow,
A Beavy of the fair & Gay, Such as are daily Smoakt in tea, & toasted over wine, Vext to be made so long the Jeast Of tongues & pens, to go in qu…
My name is Wheeler here I ly Because I happend for to dy life wheeld me in death wheeld me… how strangely things are wheeld ab…
Is virtue something reall here bel… Or but an Idle name & empty s… While on this head I take my thou… Methinks young Freedom answers wt… In his own moralls thus the Spark…
When thy Beauty appears In its Graces and Airs, All bright as an Angel new dropt… At distance I gaze, and am aw’d b… So strangely you dazzle my Eye!
One authour has anothers head begu… Lett no man say it might be better… For since they both are Witts Ime… To find he has not drawn him twice…
Oft have I seen a Piece of Art, Of Light and Shade, the Mixture… Speak all the Passions of the Hea… And shew true Life in every Line. But what is this before my Eyes,