Lady Mary Wortley Montagu

Lady Mary Wortley Montagu Poems

41. Epilogue To The Tragedy Of Cato 1/3/2003
42. Conclusion Of A Letter To A Friend 1/3/2003
43. Epistle From Arthur Grey, The Footman, To Mrs. Murray, After His Condemnation For Attempting To Comm 1/1/2004
44. Epigram, 1734 1/3/2003
45. A Summary Of Lord Lyttleton's Advice To A Lady 1/3/2003
46. An Elegy On Mrs. Thompson 1/3/2003
47. Song 1/3/2003
48. Epilogue To Mary Queen Of Scots 1/3/2003
49. An Epistle From Pope To Lord Bolingbroke 1/3/2003
50. Constantinople 1/3/2003
51. Written At Lovere, October, 1736 1/3/2003
52. Tuesday, St. James's Coffee-House 1/3/2003
53. The Lover: A Ballad 1/3/2003
54. Saturday, The Small-Pox 1/3/2003
55. Ballad, On A Late Occurrence 1/3/2003
56. Epistle From Mrs. Yonge To Her Husband 1/3/2003
57. Verses Addressed To The Imitator Of The First Satire Of The Second Book Of Horace 1/3/2003
58. A Ballad 1/3/2003
59. An Epistle To The Earl Of Burlington 1/3/2003
60. The Reasons That Induced Dr S To Write A Poem Call'D The Lady's Dressing Room 1/3/2003
61. An Answer To A Lady, Who Advised Lady Montagu To Retire 1/3/2003
62. Advice 1/3/2003
63. Verses Written In A Garden 1/3/2003
64. Epistle From Arthur Grey, The Footman, To Mrs. Murray, After His Condemnation For Attempting To Commit Violence. 1/3/2003
65. A Man In Love 1/3/2003
66. An Answer To A Love-Letter, In Verse 1/3/2003
67. A Hymn To The Moon 1/3/2003

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Best Poem of Lady Mary Wortley Montagu

A Hymn To The Moon

Written in July, in an arbour

Thou silver deity of secret night,
Direct my footsteps through the woodland shade;
Thou conscious witness of unknown delight,
The Lover's guardian, and the Muse's aid!
By thy pale beams I solitary rove,
To thee my tender grief confide;
Serenely sweet you gild the silent grove,
My friend, my goddess, and my guide.
E'en thee, fair queen, from thy amazing height,
The charms of young Endymion drew;
Veil'd with the mantle of concealing night;
With all thy greatness and thy coldness too.

Read the full of A Hymn To The Moon

John Duke Of Marlborough

When the proud Frenchman's strong rapacious hand
Spread o'er Europe ruin and command,
Our sinking temples and expiring law
With trembling dread the rolling tempest saw;
Destin'd a province to insulting Gaul,
This genius rose, and stopp'd the ponderous fall.
His temperate valour form'd no giddy scheme,
No victory ras'd him to a rage of fame;
The happy temper of his even mind

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