William Cowper

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.

O for a lodge in some vast wilderness,
Some boundless contiguity of shade;
Where rumor of oppression read more

O for a lodge in some vast wilderness,
Some boundless contiguity of shade;
Where rumor of oppression and deceit,
Of unsuccessful or successful war,
Might never reach me more.

The only true happiness comes from squandering ourselves for a purpose.

The only true happiness comes from squandering ourselves for a purpose.

I would not have a slave to till my ground,
To carry me, to fan me while I sleep,
read more

I would not have a slave to till my ground,
To carry me, to fan me while I sleep,
And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth
That sinews bought and sold have ever earn'd.

Reasoning at every step he treads, Man yet mistakes his way, Whilst meaner things, whom instinct leads, Are rarely known read more

Reasoning at every step he treads, Man yet mistakes his way, Whilst meaner things, whom instinct leads, Are rarely known to stray.