Thomas Parnell Poems
|122.||To A Young Lady, On Her Translation Of The Story Of Phoebus And Daphne, From Ovid||4/17/2010|
|123.||To Mistress ------||4/17/2010|
|124.||To Mr Brown On His Book Against T---||4/17/2010|
|125.||To Mr. Pope||4/17/2010|
|127.||When Ore My Temples Balmy Vapours Rise||4/17/2010|
|128.||Ye Wives Who Scold & Fishes Sell||4/17/2010|
|129.||Young Philomela's Powrfull Dart||4/17/2010|
A Night-Piece On Death
By the blue taper's trembling light,
No more I waste the wakeful night,
Intent with endless view to pore
The schoolmen and the sages o'er:
Their books from wisdom widely stray,
Or point at best the longest way.
I'll seek a readier path, and go
Where wisdom's surely taught below.
How deep yon azure dyes the sky!
Where orbs of gold unnumber'd lie,
While through their ranks in silver pride
The nether crescent seems to glide!
The slumb'ring breeze forgets to breathe,
The lake is smooth and clear beneath,
Where once again the spangled show
A Hymn To Contentment
Lovely, lasting peace of mind!
Sweet delight of human-kind!
Heavenly-born, and bred on high,
To crown the fav'rites of the sky
With more of happiness below,
Than victors in a triumph know!
Whither, O whither art thou fled,
To lay thy meek, contented head;
What happy region dost thou please