Madam,'A stranger's purpose in these lays Is to congratulate, and not to praise. To give the creature the Creator's due Were sin in me, and an offence to you. From man to man, or e'en to woman paid,...
Dear Joseph,--five and twenty years ago-- Alas, how time escapes!--'tis even so-- With frequent intercourse, and always sweet And always friendly, we were wont to cheat A tedious hour--and now we never meet....
'Tis not that I design to rob Thee of thy birthright, gentle Bob, For thou art born sole heir, and single, Of dear Mat Prior's easy jingle; Not that I mean, while thus I knit...
Sweet stream that winds through yonder glade, Apt emblem of a virtuous maid' Silent and chaste she steals along, Far from the world's gay busy throng; With gentle yet prevailing force,...
Another Leonora[1] once inspir'd Tasso, with fatal love to frenzy fir'd, But how much happier, liv'd he now, were he, Pierced with whatever pangs for love of Thee!...
Dear Anna,'Between friend and friend Prose answers every common end; Serves, in a plain and homely way, To express the occurrence of the day; Our health, the weather, and the news;...
Where Humber pours his rich commercial stream There dwelt a wretch, who breathed but to blaspheme; In subterraneous caves his life he led, Black as the mine in which he wrought for bread....
She came'she is gone'we have met' And meet perhaps never again; The sun of that moment is set, And seems to have risen in vain. Catharina has fled like a dream (So vanishes pleasure, alas!)'...
Believe it or not, as you choose, The doctrine is certainly true, That the future is known to the muse, And poets are oracles too. I did but express a desire To see Catharina at home,...
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's[2] 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....
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...
To purify their wine, some people bleed A lamb into the barrel, and succeed; No nostrum, planters say, is half so good To make fine sugar as a negro's blood. Now lambs and negroes both are harmless things,...