William Cowper

Prison'd in a parlour snug and small,
Like bottled wasps upon a southern wall.

Prison'd in a parlour snug and small,
Like bottled wasps upon a southern wall.

O solitude, where are the charms
That sages have seen in thy face?
Better dwell in the read more

O solitude, where are the charms
That sages have seen in thy face?
Better dwell in the midst of alarms,
Than reign in this horrible place.

In indolent vacuity of thought.

In indolent vacuity of thought.

. . . Philologists, who chase
A painting syllable through time and space
Start it at home, read more

. . . Philologists, who chase
A painting syllable through time and space
Start it at home, and hunt it in the dark,
To Gaul, to Greece, and into Noah's Ark.

The Frenchman, easy, debonair, and brisk,
Give him his lass, his fiddle, and his frisk,
Is always read more

The Frenchman, easy, debonair, and brisk,
Give him his lass, his fiddle, and his frisk,
Is always happy, reign whoever may,
And laughs the sense of mis'ry far away.