#IrishWriters
When Spring came on with fresh De… To cheer the Soul, and charm the… While easy Breezes, softer Rain, And warmer Suns salute the Plain; ’Twas then, in yonder Piny Grove,
Here Great Erasmus resteth all of… That Death can touch or Monument… Thy Hope and Virtue soard ye loft… Round ye wide world thy Fame &… Those meet rewards above and these…
Some ages has the stage triumphant… and vice in masquerade debauchd th… In charming numbers, all bewitchin… has the gay syren drest to steal o… like undesigning pleasure she appe…
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…
Vast was his soul some favorite ab… Whose bolder pencil made a boy of… A boy he thought him lovers less t… Who barter all things for a crop o… He wisely too his roving pow’r bes…
Oft have I read that Innocence re… Where cooling streams salute ye su… Singing at ease she roves ye field… Or safe with shepheards lys among… But late alas I crossd a country…
For Nothing Lucy never plays ye w… Thats true’for Lucy ever pays b…
To the kind powr who taught me how… Thus with the first of all wch he… Did ancient piety approach the Go… Defended long by prejudice & p… Ive fancyd love a cant its god def…
On verdurd trees ye silver blossom… Whose leaves atop their perfect wh… & faintly streak with stains o… The western breeze steales ore ye… to sigh near roses as insnard by l…
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?
Our Carys a Delicate Poet; for W… For having writt? No: but for hav…
I look & in a moment run The poison thro’ my veins Nor Celia think your self too you… to give me amorous pains When heaven did the Sun create
Beauty rests not in one fix’d Pla… But seems to reign in every Face; ’Tis nothing sure, but Fancy then… In various Forms bewitching Men; Or is it Shape and Colour fram’d,
Let those love now, who never lov’… Let those who always lov’d, now lo… The Spring, the new, the warb’lin… The youthful Season of reviving Y… In Spring the Loves enkindle mutu…
Now early Shepherds o’er the Mead… And print long Foot-steps in the… The Cows neglectful of their Past… By turns obsequious to the Milker… When Damon softly trod the shaven…
