The Works of the English Poets: Young

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Page 24 - How empty learning, and how vain is art, But as it mends the life, and guides the heart!
Page 83 - The man who builds, and wants wherewith to pay, Provides a home from which to run away.
Page 112 - As if their grandeur, by contagion, wrought, And fame was, like a fever, to be caught: But after seven years dance from place to place, The Dane is more familiar with his Grace.
Page 132 - Charm'd with her learning, with what rapture he Hangs on her bloom, like an industrious bee ; Hums round about her, and with all his power Extracts sweet wisdom from so fair a. flower...
Page 97 - Though prone to like, yet cautious to commend, You read with all the malice of a friend ; Nor favour my attempts that way alone, But, more to raise my verse, conceal your own. An...
Page 105 - tis glorious to offend, And godlike an attempt the world to mend; The world, where lucky throws to blockheads fall, Knaves know the game, and honest men pay all.
Page 155 - Methinks, we need not our short being shun, And, thought to fly, contend to be undone. We need not buy our ruin with our crime, And give eternity to murder time.
Page 96 - I'm nearer death in this verse than the last : What then is to be done ? be wise with speed : A fool at forty is a fool indeed. And what so foolish as the chase of fame ? How vain the prize ? how impotent our aim ? For what are men who grasp at praise sublime, But bubbles on the rapid stream of time, That rise, and fall, that swell, and are no more, Born and forgot, ten thousand in an hour ? LOVE OF FAME, Va SATIRE III.
Page 31 - At the great day of recompense behold, Devoid of fear, the fatal book unfold ! Then wafted upward to the blissful seat, From age to age, my grateful song repeat ; My light, my life, my God, my Saviour see, And rival angels in the praise of thee.
Page 96 - I'll conjure thus some profit out of thee. O THOU myself! abroad our counsels roam, And, like ill husbands, take no care at home : Thou too art wounded with the common dart, And Love of Fame lies throbbing at thy heart; And what wise means to gain it hast thou chose?

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