#EnglishWriters
To me ’twas given to die; to thee… To live: alas! one moment sets us… Mark! how impartial is the will of…
Cloe beauty has, and wit, And an air that is not common; Every charm in her does meet, Fit to make a handsome woman. But we do not only find
When Nell, given o’er by the doct… And John at the chimney stood dec… ’Tis in vain said the woman to mak… For to our long home we must all o… True, Nell, replied John; but wha…
That all from Adam first began, None but ungodly Whiston doubts, And that his son and his son’s son Were all but ploughmen, clowns, an… Each when his rustic pains began
Here reading how fond Adam was be… And how by sin Eve’s blasted char… Our common loss unjustly you compl… So small that part of it which you… You still, fair mother, in your of…
While we to Jove select the holy… Whom apter shall we sing than Jov… The god for ever great, for ever k… Who slew the earthborn race, and m… To heaven’s great 'habitants? Dic…
Poor, little, pretty, fluttering t… Must we no longer live together? And dost thou prune thy trembling… To take thy flight thou know’st no… Thy humorous vein, thy pleasing fo…
Sure Cloe Just, and Cloe Fair Deserves to be Your only Care: But when You and She to-day Far into the Wood did stray, And I happen’d to pass by;
No - I’ll endure ten thousand dea… Ere any further I’ll comply: Oh! Sir, no man on earth that bre… Had ever yet his hand so high. Oh! take your sword and pierce my…
Some kind angel, gently flying, Moved with pity at my pain, Tell Corinna I am dying Till with joy we meet again. Tell Corinna, since we parted
Behind an unfrequented glade, Where yew and myrtle MIX their s… A widow Turtle pensive sat, And wept her murder’d lover’s fate… The Sparrow chanced that way to w…
Beyond the fix’d and settl’d Rule… Of Vice and Virtue in the School… Beyond the Letter of the Law, Which keeps our Men and Maids in… The better Sort should set before…
Dulce est desipere in loco. Some Folks are drunk, yet do not… So might not Bacchus give You La… Was it a Muse, O lofty Poet, Or Virgin of St. Cyr, You saw?
How long, deluded Albion, wilt th… In the lethargic sleep, the sad re… By which thy close thy constant en… Has softly lull’d thee to thy woes… Or wake, degenerate isle, or cease…
Did sweeter Sounds adorn my flowi… Than ever Man pronounc’d, or Ange… Had I all Knowledge, Human and D… That Thought can reach, or Scienc… And had I Pow’r to give that Kno…