#EnglishWriters
My rose, Gravina, blooms anew; And steeped not now in rain, But in Castalian streams by you, Will never fade again.
As on a hill-top rude, when closin… Imbrowns the scene, some past’ral… Waters a lovely foreign plant with… That scarcely can its tender bud d… Borne from its native genial airs…
Fairest and foremost of the train… On man’s most dignified and happie… Whether we name thee Charity or L… Chief grace below, and all in all… Prosper (I press thee with a powe…
Hayley, thy tenderness fraternal s… In our first interview, delightful… To Mary and me for her dear sake… Such as it is has made my heart th… Though heedless now of new engagem…
On the Burning of Lord Mansfield… So then - the Vandals of our isle… Sworn foes to sense and law, Have burnt to dust a nobler pile Than ever Roman saw!
Airy del Castro was as bold a kni… As ever earned a lady’s love in fi… Many he sought, but one above the… His tender heart victoriously impr… In fairy land was born the matchle…
Apelles, hearing that his boy Had just expired—his only joy! Although the sight with anguish to… Bade place his dear remains before… He seized his brush, his colours s…
That ocean you have late surveyed, Those rocks I too have seen; But I, afflicted and dismayed, You tranquil and serene. You from the flood-controlling ste…
Oft we embrace our ills by discont… And give them bulk beyond what nat… A parent, brother, friend deceased… ‘He’s dead indeed, but he was born… Such temperate grief is suited to…
(Matthew, XIII.3) Ye sons of earth prepare the ploug… Break up your fallow ground; The sower is gone forth to sow, And scatter blessings round.
God gives his mercies to be spent; Your hoard will do your soul no go… Gold is a blessing only lent, Repaid by giving others food. The world’s esteem is but a bribe,
My God, how perfect are Thy ways! But mine polluted are; Sin twines itself about my praise, And slides into my prayer. When I would speak what Thou hast…
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.
Long plunged in sorrow, I resign My soul to that dear hand of thine… Without reserve or fear; That hand shall wipe my streaming… Or into smiles of glad surprise
Boy! I detest all Persian fopperi… Fillet-bound garlands are to me di… Task not thyself with any search,… Where latest roses linger. Bring me alone (for thou wilt find…