The British Poets: Including Translations ...

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Page 38 - Some angel guide my pencil, while I draw, What nothing less than angel can exceed ! A man on earth devoted to the skies ; Like ships in sea, while in, above the world. With aspect mild, and elevated eye, Behold him seated on a mount serene, Above the fogs of sense, and passion's storm ; All the black cares, and tumults, of this life, Like harmless thunders, breaking at his feet, Excite his pity, not impair his peace.
Page 55 - And now, all dross remov'd, heaven's own pure day, Full on the confines of our ether, flames. While (dreadful contrast !) far, how far beneath ! Hell, bursting, belches forth her blazing seas, And storms sulphureous ; her voracious jaws Expanding wide, and roaring for her prey.
Page 179 - And all, but adoration, is your due. But adoration ! give me something more, Cries Lyce, on the borders of threescore : Nought treads so silent as the foot of time ; Hence we mistake our autumn for our prime ; 'Tis greatly wise to know, before we're told, The melancholy news, that we grow old. Autumnal Lyce carries in her face Memento mori to each public place.
Page 121 - Joy breaks, shines, triumphs ; 'tis eternal day. Shall that which rises out of nought complain Of a few evils, paid with endless joys ? My soul ! henceforth, in sweetest union join The two supports of human happiness, Which some, erroneous, think can never meet ; True taste of life, and constant thought of death ! The thought of death, sole victor of its dread ; Hope, be thy joy ; and probity, thy skill ; Thy patron, HE, whose diadem has dropp'd Yon gems of heaven ; eternity, thy prize : And leave...
Page 132 - Some, for renown, on scraps of learning dote, And think they grow immortal as they quote. To patch-work learn'd quotations are allied ; Both strive to make our poverty our pride.
Page 136 - Bristol's hair : What bodily fatigue is half so bad? With anxious care they labour to be glad. What numbers, here, would into fame advance, Conscious of merit in the coxcomb's dance ? The tavern ! park ! assembly ! mask ! and play ! Those dear destroyers of the tedious day ! That wheel of fops ! that saunter of the town ! Call it diversion, and the pill goes down.
Page 55 - From tenfold darkness ; sudden as the spark From smitten steel ; from nitrous grain, the blaze. Man, starting from his couch, shall sleep no more ! The day is broke, which never more shall close ! Above, around, beneath, amazement all ! Terror and glory join'd in their extremes ! Our GOD in grandeur, and our world on fire ! All nature struggling in the pangs of death I Dost thou not hear her?
Page 26 - Almighty's sake ; A foe to God was ne'er true friend to man ; Some sinister intent taints all he does ; And, in his kindest actions, he's unkind. On piety, humanity is built ;. And, on humanity, much happiness ; And yet still more on piety itself. A soul in commerce...
Page 57 - Inexorable, all ! and all, extreme ! Nor man alone ; the foe of God and man, From his dark den, blaspheming, drags his chain, And rears his brazen front, with thunder scarr'd : Receives his sentence, and begins his hell. All vengeance past, now, seems abundant grace : Like meteors in a stormy sky, how roll His baleful eyes ! he curses whom he dreads ; And deems it the first moment of his fall.
Page 27 - 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...

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