The Complaint, Or, Night Thoughts on Life, Death, and Immortality

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Sage & Thompson, no. 149 Pearl-street, L. Nichols, print., 1805 - Всего страниц: 258

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Стр. 22 - tis madness to defer: Next day the fatal precedent will plead ; Thus on, till wisdom is push'd 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.
Стр. 14 - Fate! drop the curtain; I can lose no more. Silence and Darkness! solemn sisters! twins From ancient Night, who nurse the tender thought To reason, and on reason build resolve— That column of true majesty in man...
Стр. 13 - 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.
Стр. 23 - 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 applaud How excellent that life they ne'er will lead.
Стр. 23 - 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.
Стр. 59 - 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
Стр. 230 - What am I ? and from whence ? — I nothing know, But that I am; and, since I am, conclude Something eternal : had there e'er been nought, Nought still had been : eternal there must be.
Стр. 59 - The world's a stately bark, on dang'rous seas, With pleasure seen, but boarded at our peril; Here, on a single plank, thrown safe ashore, I hear the tumult of the distant throng, As that of seas remote, or dying storms : And meditate on scenes, more silent still ; Pursue my theme, and fight the Fear of Death.
Стр. 113 - J on Alps ; And pyramids are pyramids in vales. Each man makes his own stature, builds himself: Virtue alone outbuilds the pyramids: Her monuments shall last, when Egypt's fall.
Стр. 55 - tis our harvest, rich And ripe : what though the sickle, sometimes keen, Just scars us as we reap the golden grain; More than thy balm, O Gilead, heals the wound.

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