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ambition angels beneath bids bliſs cauſe creation dark darkneſs death deep Deity divine dread duſt earth eternal ev'ry fair fall fate fear feel fire firſt flame fool future give glory gods grave guilt hand happineſs hear heart heav'n hope hour human immortal juſt kind leave leſs life's light live look Lorenzo man's mankind mind mortal moſt muſt nature nature's never night o'er once pain paſt peace pleaſure poor pow'r praiſe pride proud reaſon rich riſe round ſcene ſee ſeen ſenſe ſet ſhall ſhe ſhines ſhould ſkies ſmile ſome ſong ſoul ſphere ſtars ſtill ſtrange ſuch ſun thee theme theſe thine things thoſe thou thought thouſand thro throne triumph true truth turn virtue whole whoſe wing wiſdom wiſe wonder wretched
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 16 - Of man's miraculous mistakes this bears The palm, ' That all men are about to live, For ever on the brink of being born.' 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.
Page 5 - 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 33 - Tis greatly wise to talk with our past hours ; And ask them, what report they bore to heaven ; And how they might have borne more welcome news.
Page 85 - Religion's All. Descending from the skies To wretched man, the goddess in her left Holds out this world, and, in her right, the next...
Page 17 - ... immortal. All men think all men mortal but themselves ; Themselves, when some alarming shock of 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.
Page 16 - How excellent that life they ne'er will lead! Time lodg'd in their own hands is Folly's vails ; That lodg'd in Fate's to wisdom they consign ; The thing they can't but purpose they postpone.
Page 103 - Virtue, for ever frail, as fair, below, Her tender nature suffers in the crowd, Nor touches on the world, without a stain : The world's infectious ; few bring back at eve, Immaculate, the manners of the morn.