What needs my Shakespeare for his honored bones The labor of an age in piled stones? Or that his hallowed reliques should be hid Under a star-ypointing pyramid? Dear son of Memory, great heir of Fame,...
This rich Marble doth enterr The honour'd Wife of Winchester, A Vicounts daughter, an Earls heir, Besides what her vertues fair Added to her noble birth, More then she could own from Earth....
Hail native Language, that by sinews weak Didst move my first endeavouring tongue to speak, And mad'st imperfect words with childish tripps, Half unpronounc't, slide through my infant-lipps,...
Hail native Language, that by sinews weak Didst move my first endeavouring tongue to speak, And mad'st imperfect words with childish tripps, Half unpronounc't, slide through my infant-lipps,...
Silent I sat, dejected, and alone, Making in thought the public woes my own, When, first, arose the image in my breast Of England's sufferings by that scourge, the pest.3...
Thee, whose refulgent staff and summons clear, Minerva's flock longtime was wont t'obey, Although thyself an herald, famous here, The last of heralds, Death, has snatch'd away....
At length, my friend, the far-sent letters come, Charged with thy kindness, to their destin'd home, They come, at length, from Deva's2 Western side, Where prone she seeks the salt Vergivian tide.3...
Hence, my epistle skim the Deep fly o'er Yon smooth expanse to the Teutonic shore! Haste lest a friend should grieve for thy delay And the Gods grant that nothing thwart thy way!...
Time, never wand'ring from his annual round, Bids Zephyr breathe the Spring, and thaw the ground; Bleak Winter flies, new verdure clothes the plain, And earth assumes her transient youth again....
As yet a stranger to the gentle fires That Amathusia's smiling Queen2 inspires, Not seldom I derided Cupid's darts, And scorn'd his claim to rule all human hearts....
Who sent the Author a poetical epistle, in which he requested that his verses, if not so good as usual, might be excused on account of the many feasts to which his friends invited him, and which would not allow him leisure to f...
This rich marble doth inter The honoured wife of Winchester, A viscount's daughter, an earl's heir, Besides what her virtues fair Added to her noble birth, More than she could own from earth....
Methought I saw my late espoused Saint Brought to me like Alcestus from the grave, Who Jove's great Son to her glad Husband gave, Rescu'd from death by force though pale and faint....
My lids with grief were tumid yet, And still my sullied cheek was wet With briny dews profusely shed For venerable Winton dead,2 When Fame, whose tales of saddest sound Alas! are ever truest found,...
Survey my Features, you will own it clear That little skill has been exerted here. My Friends, who know me not here smile to see How ill the model and the work agree.