An ODE. (Anne Killigrew Poem)
ARise my Dove, from mid'st of Pots arise, Thy sully'd Habitation leave, To Dust no longer cleave, Unworthy they of ...
ARise my Dove, from mid'st of Pots arise, Thy sully'd Habitation leave, To Dust no longer cleave, Unworthy they of ...
IN that so temperate Soil Arcadia nam'd, For fertile Pasturage by Poets fam'd; Stands a steep Hill, whose lofty jetting ...
NExt Heaven my Vows to thee (O Sacred Muse! ) I offer'd up, nor didst thou them refuse. O Queen ...
I. HEre take no Care, take here no Care, my Muse, Nor ought of Art or Labour use: But let ...
WHen first Alexis did in Verse delight, His Muse in Low, but Graceful Numbers walk't, And now and then a ...
SO the renowned Ithacensian Queen In Tears for her Telemachus was seen, When leaving Home, he did attempt the Ire ...
TEll me thou safest End of all our Woe, Why wreched Mortals do avoid thee so: Thou gentle drier o'th' ...
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