Night Thoughts on Life, Death, and Immortality, Bind 1J. Walker and Company, 1816 - 268 sider |
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Side 3
... eternal day . For human weal Heav'n husbands all events : Dull sleep instructs , nor sport vain dreams in vain . Why then their loss deplore that are not lost ? Why wanders wretched thought their tombs around In infidel distress ON LIFE ...
... eternal day . For human weal Heav'n husbands all events : Dull sleep instructs , nor sport vain dreams in vain . Why then their loss deplore that are not lost ? Why wanders wretched thought their tombs around In infidel distress ON LIFE ...
Side 5
... Eternal sunshine in the storms of life ! How richly were my noontide trances hung With gorgeous tapestries of pictured joys ! Joy behind joy , in endless perspective ! Till at Death's toll , whose restless iron tongue Calls daily for ...
... Eternal sunshine in the storms of life ! How richly were my noontide trances hung With gorgeous tapestries of pictured joys ! Joy behind joy , in endless perspective ! Till at Death's toll , whose restless iron tongue Calls daily for ...
Side 10
... eternal schemes , As we the Fatal Sisters could outspin , And , big with life's futurities , expire . Not e'en Philander had bespoke his shroud , Nor had he cause ; a warning was denied : How many fall as sudden , not as safe ; As ...
... eternal schemes , As we the Fatal Sisters could outspin , And , big with life's futurities , expire . Not e'en Philander had bespoke his shroud , Nor had he cause ; a warning was denied : How many fall as sudden , not as safe ; As ...
Side 13
... Eternal war with woe : who bears it best Deserves it least . - On other themes I'll dwell . Lorenzo ! let me turn my thoughts on thee ; And thine on themes may profit ; profit there Where most thy need : themes , too , the genuine ...
... Eternal war with woe : who bears it best Deserves it least . - On other themes I'll dwell . Lorenzo ! let me turn my thoughts on thee ; And thine on themes may profit ; profit there Where most thy need : themes , too , the genuine ...
Side 19
... eternal night Where such expedients fail ? O treach'rous Conscience ! while she seems to sleep On rose and myrtle , lull'd with syren song ; While she seems nodding o'er her charge , to drop On headlong appetite the slacken'd rein , And ...
... eternal night Where such expedients fail ? O treach'rous Conscience ! while she seems to sleep On rose and myrtle , lull'd with syren song ; While she seems nodding o'er her charge , to drop On headlong appetite the slacken'd rein , And ...
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Almindelige termer og sætninger
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
Populære passager
Side 3 - How poor, how rich, how abject, how august, How complicate, how wonderful, is man!
Side 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?
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.
Side 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.