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ambition angels awful beneath blest bliss cause creation dark dead Death deep Deity divine dread dust earth eternal ev'ry fair fall fate feel fire flame fool future give glory gods grave guilt hand happiness hear heart Heav'n hope hour human immortal kind leave less life's light Line live look Lorenzo Man's mankind mean mind mortal Nature Nature's never Night o'er once pain passions past peace Pleasure poor pow'r praise present pride proud Reason rich rise round scene seen sense shines sight skies smile song soon soul speak sphere spirit stars strange strike sure tell thee theme thine things thou thought throne triumph true truth turn various Virtue whole wing wisdom wise wish wonder wretched
Side 22 - At thirty man suspects himself a fool ; Knows it at forty, and reforms his plan ; At fifty chides his infamous delay, Pushes his prudent purpose to resolve; In all the magnanimity of thought Resolves and re-resolves; then dies the same.
Side 22 - And is it in the flight of threescore years To push eternity from human thought, And smother souls immortal in the dust?
Side 13 - 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.
Side 22 - 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*!
Side 16 - For letting down the golden chain from high, He drew his audience upward to the sky...
Side 59 - When in this vale of years I backward look, And miss such numbers, numbers too of such, Firmer in health, and greener in their age, And stricter on their guard, and fitter far To play life's subtle game, I scarce believe I still survive...
Side 22 - 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 ! O what a miracle to man is man ! Triumphantly distress'd ! what joy!
Side 13 - Night Thoughts" he has exhibited a very wide display of original poetry, variegated with deep reflections and striking allusions, a wilderness of thought, in which the fertility of fancy scatters flowers of every hue and of every odour. This is one of the few poems in which blank verse could not be changed for rhyme but with disadvantage.