#EnglishWriters
They mock my toil—the nymphs and a… And whence this fond attempt to wr… Love-songs in language that thou l… How dar’st thou risque to sing the… Say truly. Find’st not oft thy pu…
All are indebted much to thee, But I far more than all, From many a deadly snare set free, And raised from many a fall. Overwhelm me, from above,
How bless’d Thy creature is, O G… When with a single eye, He views the lustre of Thy Word, The dayspring from on high! Through all the storms that veil t…
Lord, my soul with pleasure spring… When Jesu’s name I hear: And when God the Spirit brings The word of promise near: Beauties too, in holiness,
Fair Lady, whose harmonious name… Through all his grassy vale deligh… Base were, indeed, the wretch, who… To love a spirit elegant as thine, That manifests a sweetness all div…
Oh fond attempt to give a deathles… To names ignoble, born to be forgo… In vain recorded in historic page, They court the notice of a future… Those twinkling tiny lustres of th…
No mischief worthier of our fear In nature can be found Than friendship, in ostent sincere… But hollow and unsound, For lull’d into a dangerous dream
Dear President, whose art sublime Gives perpetuity to time, And bids transactions of a day, That fleeting hours would waft awa… To dark futurity, survive,
I sing the Sofa. I who lately san… Truth, Hope, and Charity, and tou… The solemn chords, and with a trem… Escaped with pain from that advent… Now seek repose upon an humbler th…
When the British warrior queen, Bleeding from the Roman rods, Sought, with an indignant mien, Counsel of her country’s gods, Sage beneath a spreading oak
(excerpt) Hark! ’tis the twanging horn! o’er… That with its wearisome but needfu… Bestrides the wintry flood, in whi… Sees her unwrinkled face reflected…
This is the feast of heavenly wine… And God invites to sup; The juices of the living Vine Were press’d to fill the cup. Oh! bless the Saviour, ye that ea…
My mother! if thou love me, name n… My noble birth! Sounding at every… My noble birth, thou kill’st me.… As to their only refuge, all from… Nature withholds all good besides;…
Nor oils of balmy scene produce, Nor mirror for Minerva’s use, Ye nymphs who lave her; she, array… In genuine beauty, scorns their ai… Not even when they left the skies,
How happy are the new–born race, Partakers of adopting grace! How pure the bliss they share! Hid from the world and all its eye… Within their heart the blessing li…