#EnglishWriters
Less worthy of applause, though mo… Because a novelty, the work of man… Imperial mistress of the fur-clad… Thy most magnificent and mighty fr… The wonder of the North. No fores…
Dear Anna,—Between friend and fri… Prose answers every common end; Serves, in a plain and homely way, To express the occurrence of the d… Our health, the weather, and the n…
Grace, triumphant in the throne, Scorns a rival, reigns alone; Come and bow beneath her sway; Cast your idol works away! Works of man, when made his plea,
(Jeremiah, XXIII.6) My God, how perfect are Thy ways! But mine polluted are; Sin twines itself about my praise, And slides into my prayer.
Heu inimicitias quoties parit æmu… Quam raro pulchrae, pulchra placer… Sed fines ultrà solitos discordia… Cum flores ipsos bilis et ira move… Hortus ubi dulces præbet tacitosq…
CHORUS OF ANGELS, Singing… To Heaven’s bright lyre let Iris… Adapt the spheres for chords, for… Let new-born gales discriminate th… Nor let old Time to measure times…
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…
The saints should never be dismay’… Nor sink in hopeless fear; For when they least expect His ai… The Saviour will appear. This Abraham found: he raised the…
From right to left, and to and fro… Caught in a labyrinth you go, And turn, and turn, and turn again… To solve the mystery, but in vain; Stand still, and breathe, and take…
John Gilpin was a citizen Of credit and renown, A trainband captain eke was he Of famous London town. John Gilpin’s spouse said to her…
Thankless for favours from on high… Man thinks he fades too soon; Though ’tis his privilege to die, Would he improve the boon. But he, not wise enough to scan
My soul is sad, and much dismay’d; See, Lord, what legions of my foe… With fierce Apollyon at their hea… My heavenly pilgrimage oppose. See, from the ever-burning lake,
A Spartan 'scaping from the fight… His mother met him in his flight, Upheld a falchion to his breast, And thus the fugitive address’d: ‘Thou canst but live to blot with…
There is a fountain fill’d with bl… Drawn from Emmanuel’s veins; And sinners, plunged beneath that… Lose all their guilty stains. The dying thief rejoiced to see
Patron of all those luckless brain… That, to the wrong side leaning, Indite much metre with much pains, And little or no meaning; Ah why, since oceans, rivers, stre…