The Complaint; Or, Night Thoughts
F.C. and J. Rivington; Scatcherd and Letterman; J. Cuthell; J. Walker; Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown; J. Carpenter; W. Otridge; Cadell and Davies; Lackington, Allen, and Company; and J. Mawman., 1813 - 352 pages
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ambition angels beneath bids bliss cause creation dark dead death deep Deity divine dread dust earth eternal fair fall fate fear feel fire flame fool future give glory gods grave guilt hand happiness hear heart heaven hope hour human immortal kind leave less life's light live look LORENZO man's mankind mean mind mortal nature nature's never night nought o'er once pain passion past peace pleasure poor praise present pride proud reason rich rise round scene seen sense shines sigh sight skies smile song soon soul speak sphere spirit stars strange strike sure tell thee theme thine things thou thought thousand throne triumph true truth turn virtue whole wing wisdom wise wish wonder wretched
Page 1 - 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.
Page 14 - By Nature's law, what may be, may be now ; There 's no prerogative in human hours. In human hearts what bolder thought can rise, Than man's presumption on to-morrow's dawn ? Where is to-morrow ? In another world. For numbers this is certain ; the reverse Is sure to none ; and yet on this perhaps...
Page 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? With the years beyond the flood.
Page 115 - Each moment on the former shuts the grave. While man is growing, life is in decrease, And cradles rock us nearer to the tomb. Our birth is nothing but our death begun, As tapers waste that instant they take fire.
Page 6 - Yon ambient .azure shell, and spring to life, The life of gods — O transport ! and of man. Yet man, fool man ! here buries all his thoughts ; Inters celestial hopes without one sigh : Prisoner of earth, and pent beneath the moon, Here pinions all his wishes : wing'd by heaven To fly at infinite, and reach it there, Where seraphs gather immortality, On life's fair tree, fast by the throne of God.
Page 4 - What can preserve my life? or what destroy? An angel's arm can't snatch me from the grave; Legions of angels can't confine me there.
Page 51 - Smitten friends Are angels sent on errands full of love ; For us they languish, and for us they die : And shall they languish, shall they die, in vain ? Ungrateful, shall we grieve their hovering shades, Which wait the revolution in our hearts? Shall we disdain their silent, soft, address, Their posthumous advice, and pious prayer ? Senseless as herds that graze their hallo w'd graves, Tread under foot their agonies and groans, Frustrate their anguish, and destroy their deaths...
Page 8 - More mortal than the common births of Fate. Each moment has its sickle, emulous Of Time's enormous scythe, whose ample sweep Strikes empires from the root; each moment plays His little weapon in the narrower sphere Of sweet domestic comfort, and cuts down The fairest bloom of sublunary bliss.
Page 38 - The chamber where the good man meets his fate, Is privileged beyond the common walk Of virtuous life, quite in the verge of heaven.