#EnglishWriters #FemaleWriters
See, the bright Sun renews his an… Each Beam re—tinges, and revives… By Years uninjur’d; so may’st tho… Not Time from thee, but thou from… O might the Fates thy vital Threa…
Why, lovely Lelia, so depress’d? With wonted Smiles your Eyes ador… Drive gloomy Sorrow from your Bre… And shine out, beauteous, as the… The fair Pendarvis bid me try,
Say, Worsdcal, where you learn’d… To paint the Goodness of the Hear… The flatt’ring Teint let others p… You call the Soul into the Eyes: There we the various Virtues trac…
Since Phoebus makes your Verse di… Since the God glows in ev’ry Line… Why should you think, but I, with… Might write my native, artless La… My Mother told me many a Time,
Might I inquire the Reasons of my… Or with my Maker dare expostulate… Did I, in prosp’rous Days, despis… Or drive the friendless Stranger… Was not my Soul pour’d out for th…
This mourning Mother can with Eas… The Arts of Latium, and the Grec… Was early learn’d, nay more, was e… And knew the Pride of Science to… Left Men to take assuming Airs fr…
We of late had a terrible Rout in… If I happen’d to speak, I was sur… My Mamma had the Tooth—ach, and… O Steel, I for ever will yalue th… Both Children, and Servants, to t…
Ladies, this Entertainment we hav… Has not been rightly suited, I mu… Heroic Virtue should have been di… And Homage to heroic Virtue paid. Low Comedy supplies but mean Deli…
I hope, Sir, by this you have fou… In visiting Airy, and seeing his… If Froth can delight you, you’re… And we know it gives Joy on a Bot… Your Friend would be very much me…
Obrian, were in Story told, Thy Ancestors wore Crowns of old: In fair Hibernia’s Isle they reig… A Country, by their Sons disdain’… Too apt to charge their Native Is…
Ye gentle Beaux, and thoughtless… Who gaily rove at Tunbridge—Wells… With Pockets full; and empty Look… Raffling for ev’ry Toy—but Books: Should Addison’s immortal Page
Let me the Honour soon obtain, For which I long have hop’d in va… Since I, alas! am now confin’d, Your Visit would be doubly kind. What Sorrows have I not to fear,
Faint—Fair, and act a Play. In some few Hours we must repair, To act, like Thespis, in the Fair… And, as our Stage is of a Piece With that transmitted down from G…
This Present from a lovely Dame, Fair and unsully’d, as her Fame, Shall to Hibernia be convey’d, Where once, rever’d, her Father s… And taught the drooping Arts to s…
Shall for the Man of Ross thy Ly… And sleeps illustrious Thanet yet… Since to distinguish Merit is thy… Let Thanet in thy deathless Prais… Let me, unequal to the Task, exci…