Envy poems
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To The Memory Of My Beloved, The Author, Mr William Shakespeare, And What He Hath Left Us
© Benjamin Jonson
To draw no envy, Shakespeare, on thy name
Am I thus ample to thy book and fame;
While I confess thy writings to be such
As neither Man nor Muse can praise too much.
Song
© Matthew Prior
How old may Phyllis be, you ask,
Whose beauty thus all hearts engages?
To answer is no easy task;
For she has really two ages.
On The Report Of A Monument To Be Erected In Westminster Abbey, To The Memory Of A Late Author (Chur
© James Beattie
Bufo, begone! with thee may Faction's fire,
That hatch'd thy salamander-fame, expire.
Fame, dirty idol of the brainless crowd,
What half-made moon-calf can mistake for good!
Ode to the Memory of Burns
© Thomas Campbell
Soul of the Poet ! wheresoe'er,
Reclaimed from earth, thy genius plume
Her wings of immortality ;
Suspend thy harp in happier sphere,
And with thine influence illume
The gladness of our jubilee.
146. Address to Edinburgh
© Robert Burns
EDINA! Scotias darling seat!
All hail thy palaces and towrs,
Where once, beneath a Monarchs feet,
Sat Legislations sovreign powrs:
378. SongBessy and her Spinnin Wheel
© Robert Burns
O LEEZE me on my spinnin wheel,
And leeze me on my rock and reel;
Frae tap to tae that cleeds me bien,
And haps me biel and warm at een;
Jerusalem Delivered - Book 02 - part 07
© Torquato Tasso
LXXXVI
"But if our sins us of his help deprive,
72. SongYoung Peggy Blooms
© Robert Burns
YOUNG Peggy blooms our boniest lass,
Her blush is like the morning,
The rosy dawn, the springing grass,
With early gems adorning.
Ode IV: To The Honourable Charles Townshend In The Country
© Mark Akenside
I. 1.
How oft shall i survey
299. SketchNew Years Day, 1790
© Robert Burns
THIS day, Time winds th exhausted chain;
To run the twelvemonths length again:
I see, the old bald-pated fellow,
With ardent eyes, complexion sallow,
155. Epistle to Mrs. Scott of Wauchope House
© Robert Burns
GUDEWIFE,I MIND it weel in early date,
When I was bardless, young, and blate,
An first could thresh the barn,
Or haud a yokin at the pleugh;
61. Second Epistle to J. Lapraik
© Robert Burns
Then may Lapraik and Burns arise,
To reach their native, kindred skies,
And sing their pleasures, hopes an joys,
In some mild sphere;
Still closer knit in friendships ties,
Each passing year!
337. SongFragmentAltho he has left me
© Robert Burns
ALTHO he has left me for greed o the siller,
I dinna envy him the gains he can win;
I rather wad bear a the lade o my sorrow,
Than ever hae acted sae faithless to him.
404. EpigramThe True Loyal Natives
© Robert Burns
YE true Loyal Natives attend to my song
In uproar and riot rejoice the night long;
From Envy and Hatred your corps is exempt,
But where is your shield from the darts of Contempt!
62. Epistle to William Simson
© Robert Burns
Sae, ye observe that a this clatter
Is naething but a moonshine matter;
But tho dull prose-folk Latin splatter
In logic tulyie,
I hope we bardies ken some better
Than mind sic brulyie.
87. The Twa Dogs
© Robert Burns
Note 1. Luath was Burns own dog. [back]
Note 2. Cuchullins dog in Ossians Fingal.R. B. [back]
140. Masonic SongYe Sons of Old Killie
© Robert Burns
YE sons of old Killie, assembled by Willie,
To follow the noble vocation;
Your thrifty old mother has scarce such another
To sit in that honoured station.
24. SongNo Churchman am I
© Robert Burns
NO churchman am I for to rail and to write,
No statesman nor soldier to plot or to fight,
No sly man of business contriving a snare,
For a big-bellyd bottles the whole of my care.
306. Election Ballad at close of Contest for representing the Dumfries Burghs, 1790
© Robert Burns
Now, for my friends and brethrens sakes,
And for my dear-lovd Land o Cakes,
I pray with holy fire:
Lord, send a rough-shod troop o Hell
Oer a wad Scotland buy or sell,
To grind them in the mire!
