Theophila Or Loves Sacrifice. Canto XII (Edward Benlowes Poems)
THE SWEETNESSE OF RETIREMENT,OR The Happinesse of a Private Life.The Segregation.THE ARGUMENT. True Blisse! Thou know'st but Few, to Few ...
THE SWEETNESSE OF RETIREMENT,OR The Happinesse of a Private Life.The Segregation.THE ARGUMENT. True Blisse! Thou know'st but Few, to Few ...
ADDRESSED TO THE CRITICAL REVIEWERS. Tristitiam et Metus.--HORACE.Laughs not the heart when giants, big with pride,Assume the pompous port, the ...
I. When Fate its utmost Cruelty had shown, And the Illustrious Charles was now no more, Th' Illustrious Charles, ...
1840-1861 Thrice fortunate heWho, in the palace born, has early learn'd The lore of sweet simplicity:From smiling ...
WHAT angel forms, attired in robes of light,Pour their effulgence on my raptur'd sight?Th' ethereal VIRTUES! lo! the radiant band!Appal'd, ...
Sons of freedom! break your slumbersThe day of glory's drawing nigh,Against us tyranny's red numbersRear their bloody banner high. ...
We jangle not in Shools, but strain to set Church--Musick, at which Saints being met, May warble forth Heav'ns Praise, ...
Now, who in the world can understand? Since Tyranny, Freedom's whittler,And the strong-arm band of the Iron Hand Go hitting ...
? NadarDo you know, as I do, delicious sadnessand make others say of you: 'Strange man!'- I was dying. In ...
Of all our antic sights and pageantry Which English idiots run in crowds to see, The Polish Medal bears the ...
In pious times, ere priest-craft did begin, Before polygamy was made a sin; When man, on many, multipli'd his kind, ...
EXCERPT] ... O Liberty ! with profitless endeavour Have I pursued thee, many a weary hour ; But thou nor ...
A green and silent spot, amid the hills, A small and silent dell ! O'er stiller place No singing sky-lark ...
LARA. CANTO THE FIRST. I. The Serfs are glad through Lara's wide domain, And slavery half forgets her ...
LEAVE me a little while alone, Here at his grave that still is strown With crumbling flower and wreath; The ...
Well Sir, 'tis granted, I said Dryden's Rhimes, Were stoln, unequal, nay dull many times: What foolish Patron, is there ...
The magistrate's Psalm. Mercy and judgment are my song; And since they both to thee belong, My gracious God, my ...
The Sun, who never stops to dine, Two hours had pass'd the mid-way line, And driving at his usual rate, ...
Now warm with ministerial ire, Fierce sallied forth our loyal 'Squire, And on his striding steps attends His desperate clan ...
As one who in his journey bates at noon, Though bent on speed; so here the Arch-Angel paused Betwixt the ...
Undoubtedly he will relent, and turn From his displeasure; in whose look serene, When angry most he seemed and most ...
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