Night Thoughts on Life, Death, and Immortality, Bind 1J. Walker and Company, 1816 - 268 sider |
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Side 21
... guilt , yet wound us by their flight , If folly bounds our prospect by the grave , All feeling of futurity benumb'd ; All god - like passion for eternals quench'd ; All relish of realities expired ; Renounced all correspondence with the ...
... guilt , yet wound us by their flight , If folly bounds our prospect by the grave , All feeling of futurity benumb'd ; All god - like passion for eternals quench'd ; All relish of realities expired ; Renounced all correspondence with the ...
Side 34
... adored : Sore grudg'd the savage land her sacred dust ; Stamp'd the cursed soil ; and with humanity ( Denied Narcissa ) wish'd them all a grave . Glows my resentment into guilt ? what guilt Can equal 34 THE COMPLAINT . Night III .
... adored : Sore grudg'd the savage land her sacred dust ; Stamp'd the cursed soil ; and with humanity ( Denied Narcissa ) wish'd them all a grave . Glows my resentment into guilt ? what guilt Can equal 34 THE COMPLAINT . Night III .
Side 35
Edward Young. Glows my resentment into guilt ? what guilt Can equal violations of the dead ? The dead how sacred ! sacred is the dust Of this heav'n - labour'd form , erect , divine ! This heav'n - assumed , majestic , robe of earth He ...
Edward Young. Glows my resentment into guilt ? what guilt Can equal violations of the dead ? The dead how sacred ! sacred is the dust Of this heav'n - labour'd form , erect , divine ! This heav'n - assumed , majestic , robe of earth He ...
Side 37
... guilt . Our dying friends come o'er us , like a cloud , To damp our brainless ardours , and abate That glare of life which often blinds the wise . Our dying friends are pioneers , to smoothe Our rugged paths to death ; to break those ...
... guilt . Our dying friends come o'er us , like a cloud , To damp our brainless ardours , and abate That glare of life which often blinds the wise . Our dying friends are pioneers , to smoothe Our rugged paths to death ; to break those ...
Side 40
... guilt interposes , lab'ring earth , O'ershadow'd , mourns a deep eclipse of joy ; Her joys , at brightest , pallid to that font Of full effulgent glory whence they flow . Nor is that glory distant . O Lorenzo , A good man and an angel ...
... guilt interposes , lab'ring earth , O'ershadow'd , mourns a deep eclipse of joy ; Her joys , at brightest , pallid to that font Of full effulgent glory whence they flow . Nor is that glory distant . O Lorenzo , A good man and an angel ...
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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
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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.