The Poetical Works of Edward Young, Bind 1

Pickering, 1834 - 334 sider

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Side 4 - An heir of glory! a frail child of dust! Helpless immortal! insect infinite! A worm! a god! I tremble at myself, . And in myself am lost ! at home a stranger, Thought wanders up and down, surprised, aghast, And wondering at her own: how reason reels!
Side 26 - Tis greatly wise to talk with our past hours ; And ask them, what report they bore to heaven ; And how they might have borne more welcome news.
Side 1 - TIRED 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.
Side xliii - For letting down the golden chain from high, He drew his audience upward to the sky...
Side 215 - Bewilder'd in the vale; in all unlike! His full reverse in all! What higher praise? What stronger demonstration of the right? The present, all their care; the future, his. When public welfare calls, or private want, They give to fame; his bounty he conceals. Their virtues varnish nature; his, exalt.
Side 74 - Faith builds a bridge across the gulf of death, To break the shock blind nature cannot shun, And lands thought smoothly on the farther shore. Death's terror is the mountain faith removes ; That mountain barrier between man and peace. 'Tis faith disarms destruction ; and absolves From every clamorous charge, the guiltless tomb. Why disbelieve ? Lorenzo ! — " Reason bids, All-sacred reason.
Side 3 - 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? With the years beyond the flood, It is the signal that demands despatch; How much is to be done! my hopes and fears Start up alarmed, and o'er life's narrow verge Look down- on what? a fathomless abyss; A dread eternity; how surely mine!
Side 4 - A worm ! a god ! — I tremble at myself, And in myself am lost ! at home a stranger. Thought wanders up and down, surprised, aghast, And wondering at her own : How reason reels ! О what a miracle to man is man.
Side 38 - Sweet harmonist! and beautiful as sweet! And young as beautiful! and soft as young! And gay as soft! and innocent as gay ! And happy (if aught happy here) as good ! For Fortune fond, had built her nest on high.
Side 7 - Insatiate archer ! could not one suffice ? ' . . - ' Thy shaft flew thrice ; and thrice my peace was slain ; And thrice, ere thrice yon moon had fill'd her horn.

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