Night Thoughts on Life, Death, and Immortality, Volumen1J. Walker and Company, 1816 - 268 páginas |
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Página 34
... strange tears ! that trickled down From marble hearts ! obdurate tenderness ! A tenderness that call'd them more severe , In spite of nature's soft persuasion steel'd ; While nature melted , superstition raved ! That mourn'd the dead ...
... strange tears ! that trickled down From marble hearts ! obdurate tenderness ! A tenderness that call'd them more severe , In spite of nature's soft persuasion steel'd ; While nature melted , superstition raved ! That mourn'd the dead ...
Página 35
... strange ! Yet oft his courtesies are smoother wrongs ; Pride brandishes the favours he confers , And contumelious his humanity : What then his vengeance ? Hear it not , ye stars ! And thou , pale moon ! turn paler at the sound ; Man is ...
... strange ! Yet oft his courtesies are smoother wrongs ; Pride brandishes the favours he confers , And contumelious his humanity : What then his vengeance ? Hear it not , ye stars ! And thou , pale moon ! turn paler at the sound ; Man is ...
Página 37
... ? Surprising truth ! The beaten spaniel's fondness not so strange . To wave the num'rous ills that seize on life As their own property , their lawful prey ; Ere man has measured half his weary stage , His NARCISSA . 37.
... ? Surprising truth ! The beaten spaniel's fondness not so strange . To wave the num'rous ills that seize on life As their own property , their lawful prey ; Ere man has measured half his weary stage , His NARCISSA . 37.
Página 41
... Strange competition ! ' - True , Lorenzo , strange So little life can cast into the scale . Life makes the soul dependent on the dust ; Death gives her wings to mount above the spheres . Thro ' chinks , styled organs , dim - like peeps ...
... Strange competition ! ' - True , Lorenzo , strange So little life can cast into the scale . Life makes the soul dependent on the dust ; Death gives her wings to mount above the spheres . Thro ' chinks , styled organs , dim - like peeps ...
Página 50
... strange pangs ! deliver'd of her dead ? Hell howl'd ; and heav'n that hour let fall a tear : Heav'n wept , that man might smile ! Heav'n bled , that man Might never die ! And is devotion virtue ? ' Tis compell'd . What heart of stone ...
... strange pangs ! deliver'd of her dead ? Hell howl'd ; and heav'n that hour let fall a tear : Heav'n wept , that man might smile ! Heav'n bled , that man Might never die ! And is devotion virtue ? ' Tis compell'd . What heart of stone ...
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Términos y frases comunes
adore ambition angels archangels art thou awful beam beneath bids blest bliss blood divine boast book of Job boundless call'd canst creation dæmons dark death deep Deity delight divine dost dread dust E'en e'er earth EDWARD YOUNG endless eternal ethereal ev'ry fate fire flame fond fool gaze give glorious glory gods grave grief groan guilt happiness heart heav'n hope hour human illustrious indulge know'st life's light live Lorenzo man's mankind midnight mighty mind mismeasured mortal Narcissa nature nature's ne'er night nought numbers o'er Omnipotence orbs pain passion peace Philander pleasure pow'r praise pride proud reason rise sacred scene sense shades shines sigh sight skies smile song soul immortal sov'reign sphere stars stings storm tempest thee theme thine thought throne thy disease tomb triumph truth virtue virtue's wing wisdom wise wonder wretched
Pasajes populares
Página 3 - How poor, how rich, how abject, how august, How complicate, how wonderful, is man!
Página 2 - 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 10 - tis madness to defer: Next day the fatal precedent will plead; Thus on, till wisdom is pushed 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.
Página 1 - TIK'D 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. 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...
Página 46 - Why all this toil for triumphs of an hour ? What though we wade in wealth, or soar in fame ? Earth's highest station ends in, ' Here he lies ;' And ' dust to dust
Página 11 - Resolves, and re-resolves ; then dies the same. And why ? Because he thinks himself 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 pass'd 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...
Página 11 - 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...
Página 22 - Life's little stage is a small eminence, Inch high the grave above, that home of man, Where dwells the multitude: we gaze around ; We read their monuments ; we sigh ; and while We sigh we sink ; and are what we deplored : Lamenting or lamented all our lot ! Is Death at distance?
Página 30 - O ! lost to virtue, lost to manly thought, Lost to the noble sallies of the soul ! Who think it solitude, to be alone. Communion sweet ! communion large and high ! Our reason, guardian angel, and our God ! Then nearest these, when others most remote ; And all, ere long, shall be remote, but these.
Página 68 - 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.