Night Thoughts on Life, Death, and Immortality, Bind 1J. Walker and Company, 1816 - 268 sider |
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Side 18
... thousand worlds ; Not on those terms , from the great days of heav'n , From old Eternity's mysterious orb Was Time cut off , and cast beneath the skies ; The skies , which watch him in his new abode , Measuring his motions by revolving ...
... thousand worlds ; Not on those terms , from the great days of heav'n , From old Eternity's mysterious orb Was Time cut off , and cast beneath the skies ; The skies , which watch him in his new abode , Measuring his motions by revolving ...
Side 44
... thousand deaths in fearing one . But were death frightful , what has age to fear If prudent ; age should meet the friendly foe , And shelter in his hospitable gloom . 1 I scarce can meet a monument but holds My younger THE COMPLAINT. ...
... thousand deaths in fearing one . But were death frightful , what has age to fear If prudent ; age should meet the friendly foe , And shelter in his hospitable gloom . 1 I scarce can meet a monument but holds My younger THE COMPLAINT. ...
Side 48
... thousand worlds so bought , were bought too dear ; Sensations new in angels ' bosoms rise , Suspend their song , and make a pause in bliss . O for their song to reach my lofty theme ! Inspire me , Night ! with all thy tuneful spheres ...
... thousand worlds so bought , were bought too dear ; Sensations new in angels ' bosoms rise , Suspend their song , and make a pause in bliss . O for their song to reach my lofty theme ! Inspire me , Night ! with all thy tuneful spheres ...
Side 58
... thousands more sublime , None half so dear as that which , though unspoke , Still glows at heart . O how Omnipotence Is lost in love ! thou great Philanthropist ! Father of angels ! but the friend of man ! Like Jacob , fondest of the ...
... thousands more sublime , None half so dear as that which , though unspoke , Still glows at heart . O how Omnipotence Is lost in love ! thou great Philanthropist ! Father of angels ! but the friend of man ! Like Jacob , fondest of the ...
Side 61
... thousand years . Thus , at the destined period , shall return He , once on earth , who bids the comet blaze ; And , with him , all our triumph o'er the tomb . Nature is dumb on this important point , Or Hope precarious in low whisper ...
... thousand years . Thus , at the destined period , shall return He , once on earth , who bids the comet blaze ; And , with him , all our triumph o'er the tomb . Nature is dumb on this important point , Or Hope precarious in low whisper ...
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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
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.