As to a northern people (whom the sun
Uses just as the Romish church has done
Her prophane laity, and does assign
Bread only both to serve for bread and wine)
A rich Canary fleet welcome arrives;
Such comfort to us here your letter gives,
Fraught with brisk racy verses; in which we
The soil from whence they came, taste, smell, and see:
Such is your present to us; for you must know,
Sir, that verse does not in this island grow,
No more than sack; one lately did not fear
(Without the Muses’ leave) to plant it here;
But it produc’d such base, rough, crabbed, hedge-
Rhymes, as ev’n set the hearers’ ears on edge:
Written by – – Esquire, the
Year of our Lord six hundred thirty-three.
Brave Jersey Muse! and he’s for this high style
Call’d to this day the Homer of the Isle.
Alas! to men here no words less hard be
To rhyme with, than * Mount Orgueil is to me;
Mount Orgueil! which, in scorn o’ th’ Muses’ law,
With no yoke-fellow word will deign to draw.
Stubborn Mount Orgueil! ‘t is a work to make it
Come into rhyme, more hard than ‘t were to take it.
Alas! to bring your tropes and figures here,
Strange as to bring camels and elephants were;
And metaphor is so unknown a thing,
‘T would need the preface of “God save the King.”
Yet this I’ll say, for th’ honour of the place,
That, by God’s extraordinary grace
(Which shows the people have judgment, if not wit)
The land is undefil’d with Clinches yet;
Which, in my poor opinion, I confess,
Is a most singular blessing, and no less
Than Ireland’s wanting spiders. And, so far
From th’ actual sin of bombast too they are,
(That other crying sin o’ th’ English Muse)
That even Satan himself can accuse
None here (no not so much as the divines)
For th’ motus primò primi to strong lines.
Well, since the soil then does not naturally bear
Verse, who (a devil) should import it here?
For that to me would seem as strange a thing
As who did first wild beasts into islands bring;
Unless you think that it might taken be
As Green did Gondibert, in a prize at sea:
But that’s a fortune falls not every day;
‘Tis true Green was made by it; for they say
The parliament did a noble bounty do,
And gave him the whole prize, their tenths and fifteens too.
A few random poems:
- Epistle to James Tennant of Glenconner by Robert Burns
- Commerce by Satish Verma
- So Far and So Far, and on Toward the End. by Walt Whitman
- On The Victory Obtained By Blake Over the Spaniards, In The Bay Of Scanctacruze, In The Island Of teneriff.1657 poem – Andrew Marvell poems
- One More Awakening by Pawan Kumar
- Ольга Седакова – Стансы третьи (Вино и плавание)
- Владимир Маяковский – Рифмованные лозунги
- Robert Burns: Prologue: Spoken by Mr. Woods on his benefit-night, Monday, 16th April, 1787
- What the People Said by Rudyard Kipling
- The Messiah : A Sacred Eclogue poem – Alexander Pope
- Olney Hymn 36: Afflictions Sanctified By The Word by William Cowper
- Metaphors by Sylvia Plath
- Robert Burns: Ballad On The American War:
- A Shakespeare Memorial poem – Alfred Austin
- Валерий Брюсов – Из песен Мальдуна
External links
Bat’s Poetry Page – more poetry by Fledermaus
Talking Writing Monster’s Page –
Batty Writing – the bat’s idle chatter, thoughts, ideas and observations, all original, all fresh
Poems in English
- Sonnet CXXX: My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet CXXX by William Shakespeare
- Winter by William Shakespeare
- When to the sessions of sweet silent thought (Sonnet 30) by William Shakespeare
- When that I was and a little tiny boy by William Shakespeare
- When in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes (Sonnet 29) by William Shakespeare
- Venus and Adonis by William Shakespeare
- Under the Greenwood Tree by William Shakespeare
- Three Songs by William Shakespeare
- The Quality of Mercy by William Shakespeare
- The Phoenix and the Turtle by William Shakespeare
- Spring in New Hampshire by William Shakespeare
- Sonnets CXVI: Let me not to the marriage of true minds by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet LXXI by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet LXX by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet LXVII by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet LXVI by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet LXV by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet LXIX by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet LXIV: When I Have Seen by Time’s Fell Hand Defac’d by William Shakespeare
More external links (open in a new tab):
Doska or the Board – write anything
Search engines:
Yandex – the best search engine for searches in Russian (and the best overall image search engine, in any language, anywhere)
Qwant – the best search engine for searches in French, German as well as Romance and Germanic languages.
Ecosia – a search engine that supposedly… plants trees
Duckduckgo – the real alternative and a search engine that actually works. Without much censorship or partisan politics.
Yahoo– yes, it’s still around, amazingly, miraculously, incredibly, but now it seems to be powered by Bing.
Parallel Translations of Poetry
The Poetry Repository – an online library of poems, poetry, verse and poetic works

Abraham Cowley (1618 – 1667), the Royalist Poet.Poet and essayist Abraham Cowley was born in London, England, in 1618. He displayed early talent as a poet, publishing his first collection of poetry, Poetical Blossoms (1633), at the age of 15. Cowley studied at Cambridge University but was stripped of his Cambridge fellowship during the English Civil War and expelled for refusing to sign the Solemn League and Covenant of 1644. In turn, he accompanied Queen Henrietta Maria to France, where he spent 12 years in exile, serving as her secretary. During this time, Cowley completed The Mistress (1647). Arguably his most famous work, the collection exemplifies Cowley’s metaphysical style of love poetry. After the Restoration, Cowley returned to England, where he was reinstated as a Cambridge fellow and earned his MD before finally retiring to the English countryside. He is buried at Westminster Abbey alongside Geoffrey Chaucer and Edmund Spenser. Cowley is a wonderful poet and an outstanding representative of the English baroque.