#EnglishWriters
Lie Philo untouch’d, on my peacea… Nor take it amiss that so little… I’ve no envy to thee, and some lov… Then why should I answer since fi… Drunk with Helicon’s waters, and…
By Sylvia if thy charming self be… If friendship be thy virgin vows’… O! let me in Aminta’s praises joi… Hers my esteem shall be, my passio… When for thy head the garland I p…
I know that Fortune long has want… And therefore pardon’d when she di… But yet till then it never did app… That, as she wanted eyes, she coul… I begg’d that she would give me le…
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…
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…
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
Democritus, dear droll, revisit ea… And with our follies glut thy heig… Sad Heraclitus, serious wretch, r… In louder grief our greater crimes… Between you both I unconcern’d st…
When future ages shall with wonder… These glorious lines which Harley… They shall confess that Britain c… A fairer column to the father’s pr…
I, MY dear, was born to-day— So all my jolly comrades say: They bring me music, wreaths, and… And ask to celebrate my birth: Little, alas! my comrades know
In vain, alas! poor Strephon trie… To ease his tortured breast, Since Amoret the cure denies, And makes his pain a jest. Ah! fair one, why to me so coy,
Reader, I was born, and cried; I crack’d, I smelt, and so I died… Like Julius Caesar’s was my death… Who in the senate lost his breath. Much alike entomb’d does lie
Lysander talks extremely well; On any subject let him dwell His tropes and figures will conten… He should possess to all degrees The art of talk; he practises
MY noble, lovely, little Peggy, Let this my First Epistle beg ye, At dawn of morn, and close of even… To lift your heart and hands to H… In double duty say your prayer:
Tune. - ‘King John and the Abbot… I sing not old Jason who travell’… To kiss the fair maids and possess… Nor sing I AEneas, who, led by h… Got rid of one wife and went far f…
Why, Harry, what ails you? why lo… To think and ne’er drink will make… ’Tis the mistress, the friend, and… Which create all the pleasure poor… But wine of the three’s the most c…