#IrishWriters
Compassion checks my spleen, yet… The tears a passage thro’ my swell… To laugh or weep at sins, might id… Unheedful passion, or unfruitful w… Satyr! arise, and try thy sharper…
Time Sire of years unwind thy lea… & still the past recall to pre… Spread forth its circles, swiftly… But where an action’s nobly sung b… There stop & stay for me whose…
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?
To stifle Passion is no easy Thin… A Heart in Love is always on the… The bold Betrayer flutters still, And fans the Breath prepar’d to t… It melts the Tongue, and tunes th…
When thy beauty appears In its graces and airs All bright as an angel new dropp’d… At distance I gaze and am awed by… So strangely you dazzle my eye!
The morning opens very freshly gay And life itself is in the month of… With green my fancy paints an arbo… And flowrets with a thousand colou… Then falls to weaving that, and sp…
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,
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…
From that dire æra, bane to Saru… Which broke his schemes and laid h… He talks and writes that Pop’ry w… And we, and he, and all his works… What touch’d himself was almost fa…
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…
As Celia with her Sparrow playd She took a glass unseen Her mouth she filld & while he billd She spirts ye liquor in
From the bleak Beach and broad ex… To lofty Salem, Thought direct th… Mount thy light chariot, move alon… And end thy flight where Hezekiah… How swiftly thought has pass’d fro…
Blessed Light of saints on high Who fill the mansions of the sky, Sure defence, whose mercy still Preserves thy subjects here from i… O my Jesus! make me know
Then do not Cloe do not more Boast what success youve found Tis pride to tell your conquests o… Tis cruelty to wound. These are the ills which Beauty b…
