Sonnet To William Wilberforce, Esq.

Thy country, Wilberforce, with just disdain,
Hears thee by cruel men and impious calld
Fanatic, for thy zeal to loose the enthralld
From exile, public sale, and slaverys chain.
Friend of the poor, the wrongd, the fetter-galld,
Fear not lest labour such as thine be vain.
Thou hast achieved a part; hast gaind the ear
Of Britains senate to thy glorious cause;
Hope smiles, joy springs, and, though cold caution pause
And weave delay, the better hour is near
That shall remunerate thy toils severe,
By peace for Afric, fenced with British laws.
Enjoy what thou hast won, esteem and love
From all the just on earth, and all the blest above.

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

On The Queens Visit To London. The Night Of The Seventeenth Of March 1789.

William Cowper, Simple Poetry

Yardley Oak.[1]

William Cowper, Simple Poetry

To Christina, Queen of Sweden, with Cromwell's Picture.[1]

William Cowper, Simple Poetry

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

William Cowper, Simple Poetry

English

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Sonnet, Addressed To Henry Cowper, Esq.

On His Emphatical And Interesting Delivery Of The Defence Of Warren Hastings, Esq., In The House Of Lords.


Cowper, whose silver voice, taskd sometimes hard,
Legends prolix delivers in the ears
(Attentive when thou readst) of Englands peers,
Let verse at length yield thee thy just reward.


Thou wast not heard with drowsy disregard,
Expending late on all that length of plea
Thy generous powers, but silence honourd thee,
Mute as eer gazed on orator or bard.


Thou art not voice alone, but hast beside
Both heart and head; and couldst with music sweet
Of Attic phrase and senatorial tone,
Like thy renownd forefathers, far and wide
Thy fame diffuse, praised not for utterance meet
Of others speech, but magic of thy own.

William Cowper

The Negros Complaint.

Forced from home and all its pleasures,
Africs coast I left forlorn;
To increase a strangers treasures,
Oer the raging billows borne.
Men from England bought and sold me,
Paid my price in paltry gold;
But, though slave they have enrolld me,
Minds are never to be sold.


Still in thought as free as ever,
What are Englands rights, I ask,
Me from my delights to sever,
Me to torture, me to task?
Fleecy locks and black complexion
Cannot forfeit natures claim;
Skins may differ, but affection
Dwells in white and black the same.


Why did all-creating Nature
Make the plant for which we toil?
Sighs must fan it, tears must water,
Sweat of ours must dress the soil.
Think, ye masters iron-hearted,
Lolling at your jovial b...

William Cowper

The Morning Dream.

Twas in the glad season of spring,
Asleep at the dawn of the day,
I dreamd what I cannot but sing,
So pleasant it seemd as I lay.
I dreamd that, on ocean afloat,
Far hence to the westward I saild,
While the billows high lifted the boat,
And the fresh-blowing breeze never faild.


In the steerage a woman I saw,
Such at least was the form that she wore,
Whose beauty impressd me with awe,
Neer taught me by woman before.
She sat, and a shield at her side
Shed light, like a sun on the waves,
And smiling divinely, she cried
I go to make freemen of slaves.


Then, raising her voice to a strain
The sweetest that ear ever heard,
She sung of the slaves broken chain,
Wherever her glory appeard.
Some clouds, which had o...

William Cowper

To William Hayley, Esq.

Dear architect of fine chateaux in air,
Worthier to stand for ever, if they could,
Than any built of stone or yet of wood,
For back of royal elephant to bear!


O for permission from the skies to share,
Much to my own, though little to thy good,
With thee (not subject to the jealous mood!)
A partnership of literary ware!


But I am bankrupt now; and doomd henceforth
To drudge, in descant dry, on others lays;
Bards, I acknowledge, of unequalled birth!
But what his commentators happiest praise?


That he has furnishd lights for other eyes,
Which they who need them use, and then despise.

William Cowper

To Sir Joshua Reynolds.

Dear President, whose art sublime
Gives perpetuity to time,
And bids transactions of a day,
That fleeting hours would waft away
To dark futurity, survive,
And in unfading beauty live,
You cannot with a grace decline
A special mandate of the Nine
Yourself, whatever task you choose,
So much indebted to the Muse.
Thus say the sisterhood:We come
Fix well your pallet on your thumb,
Prepare the pencil and the tints
We come to furnish you with hints.
French disappointment, British glory,
Must be the subject of the story.
First strike a curve, a graceful bow,
Then slope it to a point below;
Your outline easy, airy, light,
Filld up becomes a paper kite.
Let independence, sanguine, horrid,
Blaze like a meteor in the forehead:
Beneath ...

William Cowper

An Epistle To An Afflicted Protestant Lady In France.

Madam,A strangers purpose in these lays
Is to congratulate, and not to praise.
To give the creature the Creators due
Were sin in me, and an offence to you.
From man to man, or een to woman paid,
Praise is the medium of a knavish trade,
A coin by craft for follys use designd,
Spurious, and only current with the blind.
The path of sorrow, and that path alone,
Leads to the land where sorrow is unknown;
No traveller ever reachd that blest abode,
Who found not thorns and briers in his road.
The world may dance along the flowery plain,
Cheerd as they go by many a sprightly strain,
Where Nature has her mossy velvet spread,
With unshod feet they yet securely tread,
Admonishd, scorn the caution and the friend,
Bent all on pleasure, heedless of its end.

William Cowper