#EnglishWriters
Hic etiam jacet, Qui totum novennium vixit, Puss. Siste paulisper, Qui præteriturus es,
No strength of nature can suffice To serve the Lord aright: And what she has she misapplies, For want of clearer light. How long beneath the law I lay
In vain ye woo me to your harmless… Ye pleasant bowers, remote from st… Your shades, the witnesses of many… Breathed forth in happier days, ar… Denied that smile ’twas once my he…
The suitors sinned, but with a fai… Whom all this elegance might well… Nor can our censure on the husband… Who, for a wife so lovely, slew th…
The new-born child of gospel grace… Like some fair tree when summer’s… Beneath Emmanuel’s shining face Lifts up his blooming branch on hi… No fears he feels, he sees no foes…
Ease is the weary merchant’s praye… Who ploughs by night the Ãgean fl… When neither moon nor stars appear… Or faintly glimmer through the clo… For ease the Mede with quiver gra…
Written when the news arrived. Toll for the brave! The brave that are no more! All sunk beneath the wave Fast by their native shore.
’Tis morning; and the sun, with ru… Ascending, fires th’ horizon: whil… That crowd away before the driving… More ardent as the disk emerges mo… Resemble most some city in a blaze…
Survivor sole, and hardly such, of… That once lived here, thy brethren… (Since which I number threescore… A shattered veteran, hollow-trunke… As now, and with excoriate forks d…
William was once a bashful youth, His modesty was such, That one might say, to say the tru… He rather had too much. Some said that it was want of sens…
My lids with grief were tumid yet, And still my sullied cheek was wet With briny dews profusely shed For venerable Winton dead, When Fame, whose tales of saddest…
You give your cheks a rosy stain, With washes dye your hair; But paint and washes both are vain To give a youthful air. Those wrinkles mock your daily toi…
Maria, could Horace have guessed What honour awaited his ode To his little volume addressed, The honour which you have bestowed… Who have traced it in characters h…
Bestow, dear Lord, upon our youth The gift of saving grace; And let the seed of sacred truth Fall in a fruitful place. Grace is a plant, where’er it grow…
They call thee rich—I deem thee p… Since, if thou darest not use thy… But savest only for thine heirs, The treasure is not thine, but the…