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adore ambition angels archangels art thou beam beneath bids bleed bless'd blessings bliss blood divine boast bosom boundless breast charms Creation dark death deep Deity delight divine dost dread dust e'en earth endless eternal ethereal fair fate fire flame fond fool gaze give glorious glory gods grave grief groan guilt happiness heart Heaven hope hour human illustrious indulge infidels life's light live Lorenzo lustre man's mankind midnight mind mismeasured mortal Narcissa Nature Nature's ne'er night nought numbers o'er Omnipotence orbs pain passions peace Philander pleasure praise pride proud rapture Reason Reason sleeps rise sacred scene sense shines sigh sight skies smile song soul immortal sphere stars sting storm sublunary tempest thee theme thine thought throne thy disease tomb tremble triumph truth virtue Virtue's wing wisdom wise wish wonder wretched ye Stars
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.
15. 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.
7. oldal - How poor, how rich, how abject, how august, How complicate, how wonderful, is man!
5. oldal - Tis as the general pulse Of life stood still, and Nature made a pause ; An awful pause ! prophetic of her end.
16. oldal - Tis not in Folly, not to scorn a fool; And scarce in human wisdom, to do more. All promise is poor dilatory man, And that through every stage : when young, indeed, In full content we sometimes nobly rest Unanxious for ourselves; and only wish, As duteous sons, our fathers were more wise. At thirty man suspects himself a fool; Knows it at forty, and reforms his plan...
7. 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!
51. oldal - Death is the crown of life : Were death denied, poor man would live in vain : Were death denied, to live would not be life: Were death denied, e'en fools would wish to die. Death wounds to cure; we fall, we rise, we reign! Spring from our fetters, fasten in the skies, Where blooming Eden withers in our sight. Death gives us more than was in Eden lost! This king of terrors is the prince of peace.
23. oldal - The man who consecrates his hours By vigorous effort and an honest aim, At once he draws the sting of life and death ; He walks with Nature, and her paths are peace.
5. oldal - 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. From short (as usual) and disturb'd repose I wake : how happy they who wake no more ! Yet that were vain, if dreams infest the grave.