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ambition angels beneath bliſs cauſe creation dark dead death deep Deity divine dread duſt earth ENzo eternal ev'ry fair fall fate feel fight fire firſt flame fool future give glory gods grave guilt hand happineſs hear heart Heav'n hope hour human immortal juſt kind leave leſs light live look LoRENzo man's mankind mean mind mortal moſt muſt Nature Nature's never night o'er once pain peace pleaſure poor pow'r praiſe pride proud Reaſon rich riſe round ſcene ſee ſeen ſenſe ſet ſhall ſhe ſhould ſkies ſmile ſome ſong ſoul ſphere ſtars ſtill ſtrike ſtrong ſuch ſun thee theme theſe thine things thoſe thou thought thro throne triumph true truth turn virtue whole whoſe wing wiſdom wiſe wiſh wonder wretched
9. oldal - tis madness to defer: Next day the fatal precedent will plead ; Thus on, till wisdom is push'd out of life. Procrastination is the thief of time; Year after year it steals, till all are fled, And to the mercies of a moment leaves The vast concerns of an eternal scene.
10. oldal - ... immortal. All men think all men mortal but themselves ; Themselves, when some alarming shock of Fate Strikes through their wounded hearts the sudden dread : But their hearts wounded, like the wounded air, Soon close; where past the shaft no trace is found.
117. oldal - tis revolution all ; All change ; no death. Day follows night ; and night The dying day ; stars rise, and set, and rise ; Earth takes th
207. oldal - Vain hope ! it is too late! Where, where, for shelter, shall the guilty fly, When consternation turns the good man pale ? Great day ! for which all other days were made ; For which earth rose from chaos, man from earth ; And an eternity, the date of gods, Descended on poor earth-created man ! Great day of dread, decision, and despair!
50. oldal - And soon as man, expert from time, has found The key of life, it opes the gates of death.
50. oldal - Pursuing, and pursued, each other's prey ; As wolves, for rapine; as the fox, for wiles ; Till Death, that mighty hunter, earths them all. Why all this toil for triumphs of an hour ? What though we wade in wealth, or soar in fame ? Earth's highest station ends in " Here he lies :" And dust " to dust
108. oldal - Tis a proud mendicant: it boasts and begs; It begs an alms of homage from the throng, And oft the throng denies its charity.
67. oldal - Talk they of morals ! O thou bleeding Love ! Thou maker of new morals to mankind ! The grand morality is love of Thee.
183. oldal - Each branch of piety delight inspires ; Faith builds a bridge from this world to the next, O'er death's dark gulf, and all its horror hides...