The Poetical Works of Edward Young: In Four Volumes. Collated with the Best Editions:Printed at the Stanhope Press, by Charles Whittingham, ... for John Sharpe, 1808 |
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Стр. 17
... hand of Charity ! To shock us more , solicit it in vain ! Ye silken sons of Pleasure ! since in pains You rue more modish visits , visit here , And breathe from your debauch : give , and reduce Surfeit's dominion o'er you . But so great ...
... hand of Charity ! To shock us more , solicit it in vain ! Ye silken sons of Pleasure ! since in pains You rue more modish visits , visit here , And breathe from your debauch : give , and reduce Surfeit's dominion o'er you . But so great ...
Стр. 21
... hands is Folly's vails ; That lodg'd in Fate's to wisdom they consign ; The thing they can't but purpose , they postpone .. " Tis not in folly not to scorn a fool , And scarce in human wisdom to do more . All promise is poor dilatory ...
... hands is Folly's vails ; That lodg'd in Fate's to wisdom they consign ; The thing they can't but purpose , they postpone .. " Tis not in folly not to scorn a fool , And scarce in human wisdom to do more . All promise is poor dilatory ...
Стр. 24
... hand arrest , No composition sets the prisoner free . Eternity's inexorable chain Fast binds , and vengeance claims the full arrear . How late I shudder'd on the brink ! how late Life call'd for her last refuge in despair ! That time is ...
... hand arrest , No composition sets the prisoner free . Eternity's inexorable chain Fast binds , and vengeance claims the full arrear . How late I shudder'd on the brink ! how late Life call'd for her last refuge in despair ! That time is ...
Стр. 41
... hand ; it merits a divine : Angels should paint it , angels ever there , There on a post of honour and of joy . Dare I presume , then ? but Philander bids , And glory tempts , and inclination calls . Yet am I struck , as struck the soul ...
... hand ; it merits a divine : Angels should paint it , angels ever there , There on a post of honour and of joy . Dare I presume , then ? but Philander bids , And glory tempts , and inclination calls . Yet am I struck , as struck the soul ...
Стр. 49
... hand , Which often cropt your odours , incense meet To thought so pure ! Ye lovely fugitives ! Coëval race with man ! for man you smile ; Why not smile at him too ? You share , indeed , His sudden pass ; but not his constant pain . So ...
... hand , Which often cropt your odours , incense meet To thought so pure ! Ye lovely fugitives ! Coëval race with man ! for man you smile ; Why not smile at him too ? You share , indeed , His sudden pass ; but not his constant pain . So ...
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ambition angels archangels art thou beam beneath bids bless'd bliss blood divine boast boundless call'd canst charms creation dark death deep Deity delight divine dost dread dust earth endless eternal ethereal Ev'n fair fate flame fond fool give glorious glory gods grave grief groan guilt happiness heart Heav'n Heaven's hope hour human illustrious infidel Leather Lane life's light live Lorenzo man's mankind midnight mighty mind mortal Narcissa Nature Nature's ne'er night nobler nought numbers o'er Omnipotence orbs ordain'd pain passions peace Philander pleasure poison'd pow'r praise pride proud reason Reason sleeps rise sacred scene sense seraphs shades shines sigh sight skies smile song soul immortal sphere stars stings strange sublunary thee theme thine thought throne thy disease tomb triumph truth virtue Virtue's wing wisdom wise wish wonder wretched ye Stars
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Стр. 13 - This is the bud of being, the dim dawn, The twilight of our day, the vestibule ; Life's theatre as yet is shut, and death, Strong death, alone can heave the massy bar, This gross impediment of clay remove, And make us embryos of existence free From real life ; but little more remote Is he, not yet a candidate for light, The future embryo, slumbering in his sire. Embryos we must be till we burst the shell, Yon ambient azure shell, and spring to life, The life of gods, 0 transport ! and of man.
Стр. 10 - 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. 51 - Hope, of all passions, most befriends us here; Passions of prouder name befriend us less. Joy has her tears, and transport has her death : Hope, like a cordial, innocent, though strong, Man's heart, at once, inspirits and serenes, Nor makes him pay his wisdom for his joys...
Стр. 9 - 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.
Стр. 79 - Can prayer, can praise avert it ?—Thou, my all! My theme, my inspiration, and my crown ! My strength in age ! my rise in low estate ! My soul's ambition, pleasure, wealth !—my world ! My light in darkness! and my life in death ! My boast through time! bliss through eternity ! Eternity, too short to speak thy praise! Or fathom thy profound of love to man ; To man of men the meanest, ev'n to me ! My sacrifice ! my God ! what things are these'!
Стр. 54 - Smitten friends Are angels sent on errands full of love ; For us they languish, and for us they die: And shall they languish, shall they die, in vain?
Стр. 26 - Thy purpose firm is equal to the deed. Who does the best his circumstance allows, Does well, acts nobly; angels could no more.
Стр. 21 - 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 applauds.
Стр. 11 - 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!
Стр. 109 - Each moment on the former shuts the grave, While man is growing, life is in decrease ; And cradles rock us nearer to the tomb. Our birth is nothing but our death begun ; As tapers waste, that instant they take fire.