William Cowper

'Tis liberty alone that gives the flower
Of fleeting life its lustre and perfume;
And we are read more

'Tis liberty alone that gives the flower
Of fleeting life its lustre and perfume;
And we are weeds without it.

A story, in which native humour reigns,
Is often useful, always entertains;
A graver fact, enlisted on read more

A story, in which native humour reigns,
Is often useful, always entertains;
A graver fact, enlisted on your side,
May furnish illustration, well applied;
But sedentary weavers of long tales
Give me the fidgets, and my patience fails.

Praise enough
To fill the ambition of a private man,
That Chatham's language was his mother-tongue.

Praise enough
To fill the ambition of a private man,
That Chatham's language was his mother-tongue.

The sounding jargon of the schools.

The sounding jargon of the schools.

I praise the Frenchman; his remark was shrewd,--
"How sweet, how passing sweet is solitude."
But grant read more

I praise the Frenchman; his remark was shrewd,--
"How sweet, how passing sweet is solitude."
But grant me still a friend in my retreat,
Whom I may whisper--Solitude is sweet.