#Irish
From the bleak Beach and broad ex… To lofty Salem, Thought direct th… Mount thy light chariot, move alon… And end thy flight where Hezekiah… How swiftly thought has pass’d fro…
Blessed Light of saints on high Who fill the mansions of the sky, Sure defence, whose mercy still Preserves thy subjects here from i… O my Jesus! make me know
Gay Bacchus liking B—s wine A noble meal bespoke & for ye guests that were to d… Brought Comus Love & Joke The God near Cupid drew his chair
Oft have I seen a Piece of Art, Of Light and Shade, the Mixture… Speak all the Passions of the Hea… And shew true Life in every Line. But what is this before my Eyes,
The morning opens very freshly gay And life itself is in the month of… With green my fancy paints an arbo… And flowrets with a thousand colou… Then falls to weaving that, and sp…
In Biddy’s Cheeks ye roses blow In Cattys nose they rise From Biddys lips soft accents flo… And streams from Catty’s Eyes The jet that Biddy’s brows displa…
Alas will nothing do, Nothing arrest the arm of Death Must learning, sence, nay virtue t… Must these or. real blessings go like all things else beneath?
Hail to the sacred silence of this… Hail to the greens below the green… Oft have I found beneath these sh… A reall in imaginary bliss for they my fancy sooth she’s a c…
To Henry, Lord Viscount Bolingbr… I hate the Vulgar with untuneful… Hearts uninspir’d, and Senses unr… Hence ye Prophane, I raise the so… And Bolingbroke descends to hear…
Is Viner Dead? and shall each Mu… Silent as Death, and as his Music… Shall he depart without a poet’s… Who oft to Harmony has tun’d thei… Shall he, who knew the Elegance o…
When Pop’ry s arbitrary yoak Britannia feard of late To liberty Religion spoke To save ye sinking state Joy of the World the Goddess said
He. When first my Biddy love prof… My rapture ran so high Not Gentle S—s fondly prest To beautious G—s panting breast Was half so blest as I
Look mercyfully down O Lord & wash us from our sinn Cleanse us from wicked deeds witho… from wicked thoughts within Lord I Confess my many sinns
From that dire æra, bane to Saru… Which broke his schemes and laid h… He talks and writes that Pop’ry w… And we, and he, and all his works… What touch’d himself was almost fa…
Rome when she could King Pyrrhus… She scornd a triumph So ignobly g… The treason & ye traitor both… & ever Justly conquerd ever J… But (Like an Affrick) England se…