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ambition angels awful beneath bids blest bliss cause creation dark dead death deep Deity divine dread dust earth eternal ev'ry fair fall fate fear feel fire fool future give glory gods grave guilt half 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 shades shines sight skies smile song soon soul speak sphere spirit stars strange strike tell thee theme thine things thou thought thousand throne triumph true truth turn various virtue whole wide wing wisdom wise wish wonder wretched
Side 3 - How poor, how rich, how abject, how august, How complicate, how wonderful, is man!
Side 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.
Side 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...
Side 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
Side 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...
Side 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...
Side 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?
Side 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.