On The Neglect Of Homer.

Could Homer come himself, distressd and poor,
And tune his harp at Rhedicinas door,
The rich old vixen would exclaim (I fear),
Begone! no tramper gets a farthing here.

William Cowper

William Cowper was an English poet and hymnodist known for his contributions to English literature and the Evangelical revival of the 18th century. He suffered from periods of severe depression and mental illness, which influenced much of his work. Despite his struggles, Cowper produced notable works including 'Olney Hymns' in collaboration with John Newton and 'The Task,' which gained considerable popularity. His poetry is often characterized by its introspective, religious, and sometimes melancholic themes.

William Cowper

To Mr. John Rouse, Librarian of the University of Oxford, An Ode[1] on a Lost Volume of my Poems Which He Desired Me to Replace that He Might Add Them to My Other Works Deposited in the Library.

William Cowper, Simple Poetry

Sonnet To George Romney, Esq. On His Picture Of Me In Crayons,

William Cowper, Simple Poetry

On the Death of the Vice-Chancellor, A Physician.[1]

William Cowper, Simple Poetry

Jesus Hasting To Suffer.

William Cowper, Simple Poetry

English

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Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

On A Mistake In His Translation Of Homer.

Cowper had sinnd with some excuse,
If, bound in rhyming tethers,
He had committed this abuse
Of changing ewes for wethers;^[1]


But, male for female is a trope,
Or rather bold misnomer,
That would have startled even Pope,
When he translated Homer.

William Cowper

To John Johnston, Esq., On His Presenting Me With An Antique Bust Of Homer.

Kinsman beloved, and as a son, by me!
When I behold the fruit of thy regard,
The sculptured form of my old favourite bard,
I reverence feel for him, and love for thee:
Joy too and griefmuch joy that there should be,
Wise men and learnd, who grudge not to reward
With some applause my bold attempt and hard,
Which others scorn; critics by courtesy.
The grief is this, that, sunk in Homers mine,
I lose my precious years, now soon to fail,
Handling his gold, which, howsoeer it shine,
Proves dross when balanced in the Christian scale.
Be wiser thoulike our forefather Donne,
Seek heavenly wealth, and work for God alone.

William Cowper

From Theocritus.

IDYLL. VII.


Scarce midway were we yet, nor yet descried
The stone that hides what once was Brasidas:
When there drew near a wayfarer from Crete,
Young Lycidas, the Muses' votary.
The horned herd was his care: a glance might tell
So much: for every inch a herdsman he.
Slung o'er his shoulder was a ruddy hide
Torn from a he-goat, shaggy, tangle-haired,
That reeked of rennet yet: a broad belt clasped
A patched cloak round his breast, and for a staff
A gnarled wild-olive bough his right hand bore.
Soon with a quiet smile he spoke - his eye
Twinkled, and laughter sat upon his lip:
"And whither ploddest thou thy weary way
Beneath the noontide sun, Simichides?
For now the lizard sleeps upon the wall,
The crested lark hath closed his wandering wing.

Charles Stuart Calverley

Elegy VI To Charles Diodati, When He Was Visiting In The Country

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 finish them as he wished.

With no rich viands overcharg'd, I send
Health, which perchance you want, my pamper'd friend;
But wherefore should thy Muse tempt mine away
From what she loves, from darkness into day?
Art thou desirous to be told how well
I love thee, and in verse? Verse cannot tell.
For verse has bounds, and must in measure move;
But neither bounds nor measure knows my love.
How pleasant in thy lines described appear
December's harmless sports and rural cheer!    
French spirits kindling with caerulean fires,
And all such gambols as the time...

William Cowper

Gratitude. Addressed To Lady Hesketh.

This cap, that so stately appears,
With ribbon-bound tassel on high,
Which seems by the crest that it rears
Ambitious of brushing the sky:
This cap to my cousin I owe,
She gave it, and gave me beside,
Wreathd into an elegant bow,
The ribbon with which it is tied.


This wheel-footed studying chair,
Contrived both for toil and repose,
Wide-elbowd, and wadded with hair,
In which I both scribble and dose,
Bright-studded to dazzle the eyes,
And rival in lustre of that
In which, or astronomy lies,
Fair Cassiopeia sat:


These carpets so soft to the foot,
Caledonias traffic and pride!
Oh spare them, ye knights of the boot,
Escaped from a cross-country ride!
This table, and mirror within,
Secure from collision and dust,...

William Cowper

The Distressed Travellers; Or, Labour In Vain.

A New Song, to a Tune never sung before.


I sing of a journey to Clifton,^[1]
We would have performed, if we could;
Without cart or barrow, to lift on
Poor Mary^[2] and me through the mud.
Slee, sla, slud,
Stuck in the mud;
Oh it is pretty to wade through a flood!


So away we went, slipping and sliding;
Hop, hop, à la mode de deux frogs;
Tis near as good walking as riding,
When ladies are dressed in their clogs.
Wheels, no doubt,
Go briskly about,
But they clatter and rattle, and make such a rout.
dialogue
she.
Well! now, I protest it is charming;
How finely the weather improves!
That cloud, though tis rather alarming,
How slowly and stately it moves.
he.
Pshaw! never mind,
Tis ...

William Cowper