Night ThoughtsC. Whittingham, 1798 - 386 oldal |
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1 - 5 találat összesen 53 találatból.
22. oldal
... bliss , is bliss . Could you , so rich in rapture , fear an end , 175 180 That ghastly thought would drink up all your joy , 185 And quite unparadise the realms of light . Safe are you lodg'd above these rolling spheres ; The baleful ...
... bliss , is bliss . Could you , so rich in rapture , fear an end , 175 180 That ghastly thought would drink up all your joy , 185 And quite unparadise the realms of light . Safe are you lodg'd above these rolling spheres ; The baleful ...
22. oldal
... bliss ! from Fortune's smile , Precarious courtesy ! not Virtue's sure , Self - given , solar , ray of sound delight . In ev'ry vary'd posture , place , and hour , How widow'd ev'ry thought of ev'ry joy ! Thought , busy thought ! too ...
... bliss ! from Fortune's smile , Precarious courtesy ! not Virtue's sure , Self - given , solar , ray of sound delight . In ev'ry vary'd posture , place , and hour , How widow'd ev'ry thought of ev'ry joy ! Thought , busy thought ! too ...
34. oldal
... bliss , Superior wisdom , crown'd with smiling joy . But for whom blossoms this Elysian flow'r ? Abroad they find , who cherish it at home . LORENZO ! pardon what my love extorts , An honest love , and not afraid to frown . Though ...
... bliss , Superior wisdom , crown'd with smiling joy . But for whom blossoms this Elysian flow'r ? Abroad they find , who cherish it at home . LORENZO ! pardon what my love extorts , An honest love , and not afraid to frown . Though ...
36. oldal
... bliss for gods ! on earth how rare ! On earth how lost ! -PHILANDER is no more . 590 595 Think'st thou the theme intoxicates my song ? And I too warm ? -Too warm I cannot be . I lov'd him much ; but now I love him more . Like birds ...
... bliss for gods ! on earth how rare ! On earth how lost ! -PHILANDER is no more . 590 595 Think'st thou the theme intoxicates my song ? And I too warm ? -Too warm I cannot be . I lov'd him much ; but now I love him more . Like birds ...
43. oldal
... ; Portent , and pain ! a menace , and a blow ! Like the black raven hov'ring o'er my peace , Not less a bird of omen , than of prey . It call'd NARCISSA long before her hour ; 75 It call'd her tender soul , by break of bliss NARCISSA . 43.
... ; Portent , and pain ! a menace , and a blow ! Like the black raven hov'ring o'er my peace , Not less a bird of omen , than of prey . It call'd NARCISSA long before her hour ; 75 It call'd her tender soul , by break of bliss NARCISSA . 43.
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æther ambition angels archangels art thou awful beam beneath bids blest bliss blood divine boast boundless charms Christian creation dæmons dark Death deep Deity deny'd divine Dost dread dream dust earth EDWARD YOUNG endless eternal Ev'n ev'ry fate flame fond fool give glorious glory gods grave grief guilt happiness heart Heav'n High Holborn 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 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 tomb triumph truth Virtue Virtue's WINCHESTER COLLEGE wing wisdom wise wish wonder wretched
Népszerű szakaszok
22. 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.
28. oldal - Tis greatly wise to talk with our past hours ; And ask them, what report they bore to heaven : And how they might have borne more welcome news.
22. oldal - And is it in the flight of threescore years To push eternity from human thought, And smother souls immortal in the dust?
13. 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.
22. 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*!
16. oldal - For letting down the golden chain from high, He drew his audience upward to the sky...
59. 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...
22. 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!
13. 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.
22. oldal - TIRED Nature's sweet restorer, balmy Sleep ! He, like the world, his ready visit pays Where Fortune smiles ; the wretched he forsakes ; Swift on his downy pinion flies from woe, And lights on lids unsullied with a tear.