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ambition angels archangels art thou beam beneath bids blest bliss blood divine boast book of Job boundless call'd canst charms creation dark death deep Deity delight deny'd divine dost dread dust EARL OF LITCHFIELD earth EDWARD YOUNG endless eternal Ev'n ev'ry fair fate flame fond fool give glorious glory gods grave grief groan guilt happiness heart heav'n hope hour human illustrious infidels life's light live Lorenzo man's mankind midnight mighty mind mortal Narcissa nature nature's ne'er night Night Thoughts nought numbers o'er Omnipotence pain passion peace pleasure pow'r praise pride proud reason rise sacred scene sense shades shines sigh sight skies smile song soul immortal sphere stars storm strange tempest thee theme thine thought throne tomb tremble triumph truth virtue virtue's Winchester college wing wisdom wise wish wonder wretched ye stars
Página 3 - The bell strikes one. We take no note of time, But from its loss. To give it then a tongue Is wise in man. As if an angel spoke, I feel the solemn sound. If heard aright, It is the, knell of my departed hours : Where are they?
Página 13 - 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. As from the wing no scar the sky retains, The parted wave no furrow from the keel, So dies in human hearts the thought of death : Even with the tender tear which Nature sheds O'er those we love, we drop it in their grave.
Página 6 - The spider's most attenuated thread Is cord, is cable, to man's tender tie On earthly bliss ; it breaks at every breeze.
Página 4 - 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!
Página 288 - When tired with vain rotations of the day, Sleep winds us up for the succeeding dawn ; Fresh we spin on, till sickness clogs our wheels, Or death quite breaks the spring, and motion ends.
Página 1 - 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. I wake, emerging from a sea of dreams Tumultuous; where my wreck'd, desponding thought, From wave to wave of fancied misery At random drove, her helm of reason lost.
Página 54 - The world's a stately bark, on dang'rous seas, With pleasure seen, but boarded at our peril; Here, on a single plank, thrown safe ashore, I hear the tumult of the distant throng, As that of seas remote, or dying storms : And meditate on scenes, more silent still ; Pursue my theme, and fight the Fear of Death.
Página 4 - This is the desert, this the solitude : How populous, how vital, is the grave ! This is creation's melancholy vault, The vale funereal, the sad cypress gloom : The land of apparitions, empty shades ! All, all on earth is shadow, all beyond Is substance ; the reverse is folly's creed...
Página 247 - One sun by day, by night ten thousand shine ; And light us deep into the Deity ; How boundless in magnificence and might! O what a confluence of ethereal fires, From urns unnumber'd, down the steep of heaven, Streams to a point, and centres in my sight! Nor tarries there; I feel it at my heart. My heart, at once, it humbles, and exalts ; Lays it in dust, and calls it to the skies.