The Works of the Author of the Night-thoughts: In Four Volumes, Том 3D. Browne, C. Hitch and L. Hawes, A. Millar, J. and R. Tonson, J. Rivington, S. Crowder and Company, C. Corbett, J. Jackson, R. and J. Dodsley, and J. Richardson., 1762 |
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Стр. 6
... such strange extremes ? From diff'rent natures marveloufly mixt , Connexion exquifite of diftant worlds ! Diftinguifht link in being's endless chain ! Midway from Nothing to the Deity ! A beam ethereal , fully'd , and abforpt ! - Tho ...
... such strange extremes ? From diff'rent natures marveloufly mixt , Connexion exquifite of diftant worlds ! Diftinguifht link in being's endless chain ! Midway from Nothing to the Deity ! A beam ethereal , fully'd , and abforpt ! - Tho ...
Стр. 13
... Such is earth's melancholy map ! But , far More fad ! this earth is a true map of man . So bounded are its haughty lord's delights To woe's wide empire ; where deep troubles tofs , Loud forrows howl , invenom'd passions bite , Rav'nous ...
... Such is earth's melancholy map ! But , far More fad ! this earth is a true map of man . So bounded are its haughty lord's delights To woe's wide empire ; where deep troubles tofs , Loud forrows howl , invenom'd passions bite , Rav'nous ...
Стр. 30
... Such is her flumber ; and her vengeance fuch For flighted counfel ; Such thy future peace ! And think'st thou ftill thou canst be wife too foon ? But why on Time fo lavish is my fong ? On this great theme kind Nature keeps a school , To ...
... Such is her flumber ; and her vengeance fuch For flighted counfel ; Such thy future peace ! And think'st thou ftill thou canst be wife too foon ? But why on Time fo lavish is my fong ? On this great theme kind Nature keeps a school , To ...
Стр. 31
... for yesterdays to come ! Such is the language of the man awake ; His ardor fuch , for what oppresses thee . And is his ardor vain , LORENZO ? No ; C 4 That That more than miracle the gods indulge ; To - On Time , Death , Friendship . 31.
... for yesterdays to come ! Such is the language of the man awake ; His ardor fuch , for what oppresses thee . And is his ardor vain , LORENZO ? No ; C 4 That That more than miracle the gods indulge ; To - On Time , Death , Friendship . 31.
Стр. 33
... Such veneration due , O man , to man . Who venerate themselves , the world despise . For what , gay friend ! is this efcutcheon'd world , Which hangs out DEATH in one eternal night ? A night , that glooms us in the noon - tide ray , And ...
... Such veneration due , O man , to man . Who venerate themselves , the world despise . For what , gay friend ! is this efcutcheon'd world , Which hangs out DEATH in one eternal night ? A night , that glooms us in the noon - tide ray , And ...
Другие издания - Просмотреть все
The Works of the Author of the Night-thoughts: In Four Volumes, Том 3 Edward Young Полный просмотр - 1757 |
THE WORKS OF THE AUTHOR OF THE NIGHT-THOUGHTS. In FOUR VOLUMES ..., Том 3 Edward Young Полный просмотр - 1767 |
The Works of the Author of the Night-thoughts: In Four [i.e. Five ..., Том 3 Edward Young Полный просмотр - 1767 |
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againſt ambition angels art thou Becauſe beneath bleffings bleft blifs caufe cauſe chimæras dæmons dark darkneſs death defcend Deity divine Doft dread duft earth endleſs eternal Ev'n ev'ry facred fafe fame fate fcene feen fenfe fhades fhall fhines fhould figh fight fing fink fkies fleeps fmile foft fome fong fool foon foul immortal ftill ftorm ftrange ftrike fuch fupreme fure glory grave guilt happineſs heart heav'n himſelf hope hour human illuftrious infidel itſelf juft lefs life's loft LORENZO man's mankind moft mortal moſt muft muſt nature nature's ne'er night nought numbers o'er paffion pain peace pleaſure pow'r praife praiſe prefent pride proud reafon rife ſcene ſenſe ſhall ſkies ſpeaks ſphere ſtill thee thefe theme theſe thine thofe thoſe thou thought thouſand thro throne tomb truth virtue virtue's whofe wife wiſdom wiſh worfe wretched
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Стр. 72 - These are the bugbears of a winter's eve, The terrors of the living, not the dead. Imagination's fool, and Error's wretch, Man makes a death which Nature never made : Then on the point of his own fancy falls, And feels a thousand deaths in fearing one.
Стр. 18 - 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. 7 - 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 ? With the years beyond the flood.
Стр. 19 - 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. 9 - 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.
Стр. 41 - Can gold gain friendship ? Impudence of hope ! As well mere man an angel might beget. Love, and love only, is the loan for love. Lorenzo ! pride repress ; nor hope to find A friend, but what has found a friend in thee. All like the purchase ; few the price will pay ; And this makes friends such miracles below.
Стр. 52 - 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...
Стр. 36 - 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.
Стр. 168 - tis revolution all ; All change ; no death. Day follows night ; and night The dying day ; stars rise, and set, and rise ; Earth takes th
Стр. 52 - Transfixt by fate (who loves a lofty mark) How from the summit of the grove she fell, And left it unharmonious ! All its charms Extinguisht in the wonders of her song ! Her song still vibrates in my ravisht ear, Still melting there, and with voluptuous pain (O to forget her !) thrilling thro...