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ambition angels archangels art thou awful beam beneath bids blest bliss blood divine boast boundless call'd charms Christian creation dark Death deep foundation Deity deny'd divine Dost dread dream dust earth endless eternal ethereal Ev'n ev'ry fate flame fond fool give glorious glory gods grave grief groan guilt happiness heart Heav'n hope hour human illustrious infidels life's light Line live Lorenzo Man's mankind midnight mighty mind mortal Narcissa Nature Nature's ne'er Night Night Thoughts nought numbers o'er Omnipotence orbs pain passions peace Philander Pleasure poison'd pow'r praise pride proud Reason rise sacred scene sense shew shines sigh sight skies smile song soul immortal sov'reign sphere stars stings strange strike sublime thee theme thine thought throne thy disease tomb triumph truth Virtue Virtue's Winchester College wing wisdom wise wish wonder wretched
14. oldal - At thirty man suspects himself a fool ; Knows it at forty, and reforms his plan ; At fifty chides his infamous delay, Pushes his prudent purpose to resolve; In all the magnanimity of thought Resolves and re-resolves; then dies the same.
6. oldal - And is it in the flight of threescore years To push eternity from human thought, And smother souls immortal in the dust?
xix. oldal - Insatiate archer ! could not one suffice ? Thy shaft flew thrice ; and thrice my peace was slain ; And thrice, ere thrice yon moon had fill'd her horn.
2. oldal - An heir of glory'! a frail child of dust*! Helpless immortal'! insect infinite*! A worm'! a god*! — I tremble' at myself, And in myself am lost*!
xxii. oldal - For letting down the golden chain from high, He drew his audience upward to the sky...
65. oldal - When in this vale of years I backward look, And miss such numbers, numbers too of such, Firmer in health, and greener in their age, And stricter on their guard, and fitter far To play life's subtle game, I scarce believe I still survive...
2. oldal - A worm ! a God ! — I tremble at myself, And in myself am lost. At home -a, stranger, Thought wanders up and down, surprised, aghast, And wondering at her own. How Reason reels ! O what a miracle to man is man ! Triumphantly distress'd ! what joy!
xix. oldal - Night Thoughts" he has exhibited a very wide display of original poetry, variegated with deep reflections and striking allusions, a wilderness of thought, in which the fertility of fancy scatters flowers of every hue and of every odour. This is one of the few poems in which blank verse could not be changed for rhyme but with disadvantage.