#EnglishWriters #FemaleWriters
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…
’Tis theirs, who but to please asp… On Fiction to employ the Lyre; Make Gods and Goddesses display The Splendor of the Nuptial Day. To paint thee at the hallow’d Shr…
When Athens was for Arts and Arm… Olympic Wreaths uncommon Merit cr… These slight Distinctions from th… Convey’d eternal Honour with the… ’Twas this, the gen’rous Love of…
A sight like this, who can unmov’d… Impartial Muse, can’st thou with—… See the freed Captives hail their… And tread the Land of Liberty onc… See, as they pass, the crouding P…
Written when the Author was sick. Somnus, pow’rful Deity, Mortals owe their Bliss to thee. How long shall I thy Absence mour… And when be bless’d in thy Return…
Is what we owe great William then Forgotten by ungrateful Men? And has His Fame run out its Dat… Who snatch’d us from the Brink of… Else, why should Scholars, Sir,…
The Britons, in their Nature shy, View Strangers with a distant Eye… We think them partial and severe; And judge their Manners by their… Are undeceiv’d by Time alone;
Children are snatch’d away sometim… To punish Parents for their Crime… Thy Mother’s Merit was so great, Heav’n hasten’d thy untimely Fate… To make her Character complete.
A Curious Statue, we are told, Is priz’d above its Weight in Gol… If the fair Form the Hand confess Of Phidias, or Praxiteles: But if the Artist could inspire
Let Others speak your Titles, and… Accept from Me the glorious Name… This Honour only from fair Virtue… Ennobles Slaves, adds Dignity to… O Born to shew Nobility design’d
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…
Who can the hardest Task refuse, When lovely Lady Betty sues? If her Requests Resistance find, It must be from the Deaf and Blin…
Tho’ great Longinus claims thy ai… And hopes, thro’ thee, t’instruct… Where vile Conceits the Pow’r of… And true Sublimity is lost in Sou… Where Folly, dress’d ten thousand…
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
Tho’ the Plumb, and the Peach, wi… To present you their Softness, an… Their Aid is in vain; for what ca… But blush, and confess them selves… Where Virtue and Wit with such Q…
