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Mary Barber

Mary Barber

Verses Occasion’D by the Sickness of Mrs. Anne Donnellan.

Goddess of Health, where—e’er you dwell,
To Philomela fly;
O hasten from your rural Cell,
Nor let the Fair one die.
 
Again her Voice divine restore,
And give her Eyes their Fire;
So shall a World thy Pow’r adore,
And raise thy Altars higher.

#English #Women

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Autres oeuvres par Mary Barber...
A Letter for my Son to One of His School—Fellows, Son to Henry Rose, Esq;

Dear Rose, as I lately was writin… Which I next Day intended in Sch… My Mother came in, and I thought… ‘This Mr. Macmullen has ruin’d my… ‘He uses me ill, and the World sh…
To His Grace the Duke of Buckingham and Normanby, at the Camp Before Philipsburgh.

Return, brave Youth! suspend thy… Nor, like great Berwick, in the F… Illustrious Exile! thou art gone… Thy Toils, and various Dangers no… The royal Blood, which flow’d in…
The Peacock.

Once Juno’s Bird (as Authors say… Was seiz’d on by some Birds of Pr… They pluck’d his Feathers, one by… Till all his useful Plumes were g… Stript him of ev’ry thing beside;
Written for a Gentlewoman in Distress, to Her Grace Adelida, Dutchess of Shrewsbury.

Might I inquire the Reasons of my… Or with my Maker dare expostulate… Did I, in prosp’rous Days, despis… Or drive the friendless Stranger… Was not my Soul pour’d out for th…
To Her Grace the Dutchess of Manchester, and Lady Diana Spencer

Madam, I hear, and hear with Sorr… That we’re to lose Your Grace To… Nor you alone, but Lady Di. Where, thus deserted, shall I fly… Am I condemn’d to live in Pain,
On Seeing an Officer’s Widow Distracted

O wretch! hath Madness cur’d thy… Yes—All thy Sorrows now are light… No more you mourn your once lov’d… Who bravely perish’d for a thankle… For rolling Years thy Piety preva…
Verses Sent to a Lady, Who Took Delight in Ridiculing a Person

Should you employ your Ridicule, On those who Pity claim? Think, Birtha, is the native Fool For Wit a proper Theme? On Vice your hum’rous Vein displa…
To Mrs. Frances—Arabella Kelly, With a Present of Fruit.

Tho’ the Plumb, and the Peach, wi… To present you their Softness, an… Their Aid is in vain; for what ca… But blush, and confess them selves… Where Virtue and Wit with such Q…
Advice to the Ladies at Bath. Written by a Lady.

Ye heedless Fair, who trifle Life… Let either Brownlow set your Noti… Be, like the Daughter, innocently… Or, like the Mother, prudent and…
Written at Bath to a Young Lady

You us’d me ill, and I withdrew, Intent on satirizing you. The Muses to my Aid I call; They came; and told me, one and al… That I mistook their Province qui…
To Alexander Pope, Esq.

Shall for the Man of Ross thy Ly… And sleeps illustrious Thanet yet… Since to distinguish Merit is thy… Let Thanet in thy deathless Prais… Let me, unequal to the Task, exci…
An Epigram on the Same Occasion.

So little giv’n at Chapel Door!— This People doubtless must be poo… So much at Gaming thrown away!— No Nation sure so rich as they. Britons, ’twere greatly for your…
A Letter Written for my Daughter to a Lady, Who Had Presented Her With a Cap.

Your late kind Gift let me restor… For I must never wear it more. My Mother cries, 'What’s here to… ‘A Crimson Velvet Cap for you! ’If to these Heights so soon you…
Verses Ty’D About a Fawn’s Neck

As thro’ this sylvan Scene I stra… I saw and lov’d the Iv’ry Maid: And hearing that she fled from Ma… I begg’d this Form of mighty Pan; To try, by ev’ry winning Art,
To Mrs. Caesar, at the Speaker’s Lodgings at Bath.

When lately you acquitted me, With Carteret I din’d; And, in Return, (tho’ grievous) t… To Onslow I resign’d. ’Tis wise the happy Hour to seize…



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