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Greece, sound, thy Homer's, Rome thy Virgil's name, But England's Milton equals both in fame.
William Cowper
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William Cowper
Age: 68 †
Born: 1731
Born: November 26
Died: 1800
Died: April 25
Hymnwriter
Poet
Poet Lawyer
Translator
Writer
Berkhamsted
Hertfordshire
Names
Milton
Sound
Equals
Greece
Rome
England
Fame
Poet
Virgil
Name
Homer
More quotes by William Cowper
Go, mark the matchless working of the power That shuts within the seed the future flower Bids these in elegance of form excel. In color these, and those delight the smell Sends nature forth, the daughter of the skies, To dance on earth, and charm all human eyes.
William Cowper
He that runs may read.
William Cowper
A fretful temper will divide the closest knot that may be tied, by ceaseless sharp corrosion a temper passionate and fierce may suddenly your joys disperse at one immense explosion.
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The still small voice is wanted.
William Cowper
But what is truth? 'Twas Pilate's question put To Truth itself, that deign'd him no reply.
William Cowper
They love the country, and none else, who seek For their own sake its silence and its shade. Delights which who would leave, that has a heart Susceptible of pity, or a mind Cultured and capable of sober thought.
William Cowper
Our love is principle, and has its root In reason, is judicious, manly, free.
William Cowper
England, with all thy faults I love thee still, My country!
William Cowper
To impute our recovery to medicine, and to carry our view no further, is to rob God of His honor, and is saying in effect that He has parted with the keys of life and death, and, by giving to a drug the power to heal us, has placed our lives out of His own reach.
William Cowper
Most satirists are indeed a public scourge Their mildest physic is a farrier's purge Their acrid temper turns, as soon as stirr'd, The milk of their good purpose all to curd. Their zeal begotten, as their works rehearse, By lean despair upon an empty purse.
William Cowper
Made poetry a mere mechanic art.
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No one was ever scolded out of their sins.
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The art of poetry is to touch the passions, and its duty to lead them on the side of virtue.
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Pernicious weed! whose scent the fair annoys, Unfriendly to society's chief joys: Thy worst effect is banishing for hours The sex whose presence civilizes ours.
William Cowper
True modesty is a discerning grace And only blushes in the proper place But counterfeit is blind, and skulks through fear, Where 'tis a shame to be asham'd t' appear: Humility the parent of the first, The last by vanity produc'd and nurs'd.
William Cowper
Pity! Religion has so seldom found A skilful guide into poetic ground! The flowers would spring where'er she deign'd to stray And every muse attend her in her way.
William Cowper
As if the world and they were hand and glove.
William Cowper
What peaceful hours I once enjoy'd! How sweet their memory still! But they have left an aching void The world can never fill.
William Cowper
The darkest day, if you live till tomorrow, will have passed away.
William Cowper
When I thinkof my own native land, In a moment I seem to be there But alas! recollection at hand Soon hurries me back to despair.
William Cowper