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ambition angels beneath blest bliss cause creation dark dead death deep Deity delight divine dread dust earth eternal ev'ry fair fall fate fear feel fire flame fool future give glory gods grave guilt hand happiness hear heart heav'n hope hour human immortal kind leave less life's light live look Lorenzo man's mankind mean mind mortal nature nature's never night o'er once pain passion past peace pleasure poor pow'r praise present pride proud reason rich rise round scene seen sense sight skies smile song soon soul sphere spirit stars strange strike sure tell thee theme thine things thou thought thousand thro throne triumph true truth turn virtue whole wing wisdom wise wish wonder wretched
Page 17 - 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 ; At fifty chides his infamous delay, Pushes his prudent purpose to resolve ; In all the magnanimity of thought Resolves ; and re-resolves ; then dies the same.
Page 16 - 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.
Page 88 - 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 17 - All pay themselves the compliment to think They one day shall not drivel, and their pride On this reversion takes up ready praise; At least their own their future selves applaud; How excellent that life they ne'er will lead! Time lodged in their own hands is Folly's vails; That lodged in Fate's to wisdom they consign; The thing they can't but purpose, they postpone.
Page 50 - The knell, the shroud, the mattock, and the grave ; The deep damp vault, the darkness, and the worm; These are the bugbears of a winter's eve, T 3 The terrors of the living, not the dead.
Page 7 - TIRED 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 11 - The spider's most attenuated thread Is cord, is cable, to man's tender tie On earthly bliss ; it breaks at every breeze.
Page 12 - Insatiate archer ! could not one suffice ? Thy shaft flew thrice ; and thrice my peace was slain ; And thrice, ere thrice yon moon had fill'd her horn.
Page 38 - Sweet harmonist ! and beautiful as sweet ! And young as beautiful ! and soft as young , And gay as soft ! and innocent as gay...
Page 32 - Can gold gain friendship? Impudence of hope! As well mere man an angel might beget. Love, and love only, is the loan for love. Lorenzo ! pride repress ; nor hope to find A friend but what has found a. friend in thee. All like the purchase ; few the price will pay; And this makes friends such miracles below.