Anna Laetitia Barbauld Poems

'TIS past! The sultry tyrant of the south
Has spent his short-liv'd rage; more grateful hours
Move silent on; the skies no more repel
...

OH ! hear a pensive captive's prayer,
For liberty that sighs;
And never let thine heart be shut
...

No, helpless thing, I cannot harm thee now;
Depart in peace, thy little life is safe,
For I have scanned thy form with curious eye,
...

Still the loud death drum, thundering from afar,
O'er the vext nations pours the storm of war:
To the stern call still Britain bends her ear,
...

--- and their voice,
Turning again towards childish treble, pipes
And whistles in its sound. ---
...

Cease, Wilberforce, to urge thy generous aim!
Thy Country knows the sin, and s ...
...

When life as opening buds is sweet,
And golden hopes the fancy greet,
And Youth prepares his joys to meet,-
Alas! how hard it is to die!
...

Farewell the softer hours, Spring's opening blush
And Summer's deeper glow, the shepherd's pipe
...

Stranger, approach! within this iron door
Thrice locked and bolted, this rude arch beneath
That vaults with ponderous stone the cell; confined
...

Yes, injured Woman! rise, assert thy right!
Woman! too long degraded, scorned, opprest;
O born to rule in partial Law's despite,
...