#EnglishWriters
Whate’er could Sculpture’s curiou… Whate’er the lavish hand of Wealt… These would I give-and every gift… That pleased my fair-but Fate den… Bless’d were my lot to feed the so…
Will you hear how once repining Great Eliza captive lay, Each ambitious thought resigning, Foe to riches, pomp, and sway? While the nymphs and swains deligh…
To Mr. Graves, 1745. Ah me! what envious magic thins my… What mutter’d spell retards their… Such lessening fleeces must the sw… That e’er with Doric pipe essays…
Optima quaeque dies miseris mortal… Prima fugit-… ~Virg. Imitation. Ah! wretched mortals we! - our bri…
Ye shepherds so cheerful and gay, Whose flocks never carelessly roam… Should Corydon’s happen to stray, Oh! call the poor wanderers home. Allow me to muse and to sigh,
‘See, Daphne, see!’ Florelio crie… ‘And learn the sad effects of prid… Yon shelter’d rose, how safe conce… How quickly blasted when reveal’d! ‘The sun with warm attractive rays
[Somewhat Too Solicitious about… Survey, my fair! that lucid stream… Adown the smiling valley stray; Would Art attempt, or Fancy dream… To regulate its winding way?
—Melius, bunny venerit ipsa, canem… —Virg. Imitation. His wish’d-for presence will impro… Too long a stranger to repose,
Of all that gives politeness birth… Of all that claims to please, In motion, manners, or in mirth, The surest source is ease. With silent step, and graceful air…
Ah! ego non aliter tristes evincer… Optarem, quam te sic quoque velle… On every tree, in every plain, I trace the jovial spring in vain; A sickly langour veils mine eyes,
My banks they are furnish’d with b… Whose murmur invites one to sleep; My grottos are shaded with trees, And my hills are white-over with s… I seldom have met with a loss,
What village but has sometimes see… The clumsy shape, the frightful mi… Tremendous claws, and shagged hair Of that grim brute yclept a bear? He from his dam the learn’d agree,
Thy verses, friend! are Kiddermin… And I must own you’ve measured ou…
Again the labouring hind inverts t… Again the merchant ploughs the tum… Another spring renews the soldier’… And finds me vacant in the rural c… As the soft lyre display’d my wont…
Martial. O Fortune! if my prayer of old Was ne’er solicitous for gold, With better grace thou may’st allo… My suppliant wish, that asks it no…