#EnglishWriters
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…
Sly Merry Andrew, the last South… (At Bartholomew he did not much a… So peevish was the dict of the Ma… At Southwark, therefore, as his t… To please our masters, and his fri…
As the Chameleon, who is known To have no colours of his own, But borrows from his neighbour’s h… His white or black, his green or b… And struts as much in ready light,
Howe’er, ’tis well that, while man… Through fate’s perverse meander er… He can imagined pleasures find To combat against real cares. Fancies and notions he pursues,
Touch the lyre, touch every string… Touch it, Orpheus; I will sing A song which shall immortal be, Since she I sing’s a deity; A Leonora, whose bless’d birth
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…
My Lord, Our weekly friends to-morrow meet At Matthew’s palace in Duke-stree… To try for once if they can dine On bacon-ham and mutton-chine.
Que fais tu bergere dans ce beau v… Tu ne songe gueres a me soulager? Tu connois ma flamme, tu vois ma l… Prens belle inhumaine pitie de mon… Dequoy te plains tu malheureux ber…
Whither would my passion run? Shall I fly her, or pursue her? Losing her I am undone, Yet would not gain her to undo her… Ye tyrants of the human breast,
VENUS, take my votive glass: Since I am not what I was, What from this day I shall be, Venus, let me never see.
Is it, O love, thy want of eyes, Or by the Fates decreed, That hearts so seldom sympathise, Or for each other bleed? If thou wouldst make two youthful…
Dear Cloe, how blubber’d is that… Thy cheek all on fire, and thy hai… Pr’ythee quit this caprice; and (a… Let us e’en talk a little like fol… How can’st thou presume, thou hast…
Alexis shun’d his Fellow Swains, Their rural Sports, and jocund St… (Heav’n guard us all from Cupid’s… He lost his Crook, He left his F… And wand’ring thro’ the lonely Ro…
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;
When poets wrote and painters drew As Nature pointed out the view, Ere Gothic forms were known in Gr… To spoil the well-proportion’d pie… And in our verse ere Monkish rhym…
