To Mrs. Throckmorton, On Her Beautiful Transcript Of Horaces Ode, Ad Librum Suum.

Maria, could Horace have guessd
What honour awaited his ode
To his own little volume addressd,
The honour which you have bestowd;
Who have traced it in characters here,
So elegant, even, and neat,
He had laughd at the critical sneer
Which he seems to have trembled to meet.


And sneer, if you please, he had said,
A nymph shall hereafter arise,
Who shall give me, when you are all dead,
The glory your malice denies;
Shall dignity give to my lay,
Although but a mere bagatelle;
And even a poet shall say,
Nothing ever was written so well.

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

The Covenant. - Ezekiel xxxvi.25-28.

William Cowper, Simple Poetry

Dependence.

William Cowper, Simple Poetry

Elegy IV. Anno Aetates 18. To My Tutor, Thomas Young,[1] Chaplain Of The English Merchants Resident At Hamburg.

William Cowper, Simple Poetry

On The Burning Of Lord Mansfields Library, Together With His Mss., By The Mob, In The Month Of June 1780.

William Cowper, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

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

An Epistle To Robert Lloyd, Esq.

Tis not that I design to rob
Thee of thy birthright, gentle Bob,
For thou art born sole heir, and single,
Of dear Mat Priors easy jingle;
Not that I mean, while thus I knit
My threadbare sentiments together,
To show my genius or my wit,
When God and you know I have neither;
Or such as might be better shown
By letting poetry alone.
Tis not with either of these views
That I presumed to address the muse:
But to divert a fierce banditti
(Sworn foes to every thing thats witty!)
That, with a black, infernal train,
Make cruel inroads in my brain,
And daily threaten to drive thence
My little garrison of sense;
The fierce banditti which I mean
Are gloomy thoughts led on by spleen.
Then theres another reason yet,
Which is, that I may fairly...

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

To Mrs. Unwin.

Mary! I want a lyre with other strings,
Such aid from heaven as some have feignd they drew,
An eloquence scarce given to mortals, new
And undebased by praise of meaner things,
That, ere through age or woe I shed my wings,
I may record thy worth with honour due,
In verse as musical as thou art true,
And that immortalizes whom it sings.
But thou hast little need. There is a book
By seraphs writ with beams of heavenly light,
On which the eyes of God not rarely look,
A chronicle of actions just and bright;


There all thy deeds, my faithful Mary, shine,
And, since thou ownst that praise, I spare thee mine.

William Cowper

To Mrs. Newton.

A noble theme demands a noble verse,
In such I thank you for your fine oysters.
The barrel was magnificently large,
But, being sent to Olney at free charge,
Was not inserted in the drivers list,
And therefore overlookd, forgot, or missd;
For, when the messenger whom we despatchd
Inquired for oysters, Hob his noddle scratchd;
Denying that his waggon or his wain
Did any such commodity contain.
In consequence of which, your welcome boon
Did not arrive till yesterday at noon;
In consequence of which some chanced to die,
And some, though very sweet, were very dry.
Now Madam says (and what she says must still
Deserve attention, say she what she will),
That what we call the diligence, be-case
It goes to London with a swifter pace,
Would better suit the...

William Cowper

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

To The Rev. W. Cawthorne Unwin.

Unwin, I should but ill repay
The kindness of a friend,
Whose worth deserves as warm a lay
As ever friendship pennd,
Thy name omitted in a page
That would reclaim a vicious age.


A union formd, as mine with thee,
Not rashly, or in sport,
May be as fervent in degree
And faithful in its sort,
And may as rich in comfort prove,
As that of true fraternal love.


The bud inserted in the rind,
The bud of peach or rose,
Adorns, though differing in its kind,
The stock whereon it grows,
With flower as sweet, or fruit as fair,
As if produced by nature there.


Not rich, I render what I may,
I seize thy name in haste,
And place it in this first essay,
Lest this should prove the last.
Tis where it should bein...

William Cowper

To Mrs. Throckmorton, On Her Beautiful Transcript Of Horaces Ode, Ad Librum Suum.

Suggested Poems

To Mrs. Throckmorton, On Her Beautiful Transcript Of Horaces Ode, Ad Librum Suum.