Prepare, prepare the iron helm of… Bring forth the lots, cast in the… Th’ Angel of Fate turns them with… And casts them out upon the darken… Prepare, prepare!
I heard an Angel singing When the day was springing, “Mercy, Pity, Peace Is the world’s release.” Thus he sung all day
TO be or not to be Of great capacity, Like Sir Isaac Newton, Or Locke, or Doctor South, Or Sherlock upon Death—
I wander thro’ each charter’d stre… Near where the charter’d Thames d… And mark in every face I meet Marks of weakness, marks of woe. In every cry of every Man,
WHEN Old Corruption first begun… Adorn’d in yellow vest, He committed on Flesh a whoredom— O, what a wicked beast! From then a callow babe did spring…
I travell’d thro’ a land of men, A land of men and women too; And heard and saw such dreadful th… As cold earth—wanderers never knew… For there the Babe is born in joy
HONOUR and Genius is all I ask… And I ask the Gods no more! No more! No more! [the three Phi… No more! No more!
Little Mary Bell had a Fairy in… Long John Brown had the Devil in… Long John Brown lov’d little Mar… And the Fairy drew the Devil into… Her Fairy skipp’d out and her Fai…
The sun does arise, And make happy the skies. The merry bells ring To welcome the spring. The skylark and thrush,
THOU fair-hair’d angel of the ev… Now, whilst the sun rests on the m… Thy bright torch of love; thy radi… Put on, and smile upon our evening… Smile on our loves, and while thou…
All the night in woe Lyca’s parents go Over valleys deep, While the deserts weep. Tired and woe-begone,
And did those feet in ancient time Walk upon England’s mountains gre… And was the holy Lamb of God On England’s pleasant pastures se… And did the Countenance Divine
The little boy lost in the lonely… Led by the wandering light, Began to cry, but God, ever nigh, Appeared like his father, in white… He kissed the child, and by the ha…
AS I walk’d forth one May mornin… To see the fields so pleasant and… O! there did I spy a young maiden… Among the violets that smell so sw… smell so sweet,
My silks and fine array, My smiles and languish’d air, By love are driv’n away; And mournful lean Despair Brings me yew to deck my grave:
