Poems, Volum 2

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E. Lincoln, 1802
 

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Pàgina 37 - OH for a lodge in some vast wilderness, Some boundless contiguity of shade, Where rumour of oppression and deceit, Of unsuccessful or successful war, Might never reach me more.
Pàgina 34 - Deep in unfathomable mines Of never- failing skill, He treasures up His bright designs And works His sovereign will. 3 Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take ; The clouds ye so much dread Are big with mercy, and shall break In blessings on your head.
Pàgina 61 - Return, O holy Dove, return, Sweet messenger of rest; I hate the sins that made thee mourn, And drove thee from my breast.
Pàgina 100 - Cataracts of declamation thunder here ; There forests of no meaning spread the page, In which all comprehension wanders lost ; While fields of pleasantry amuse us there With merry descants on a nation's woes. The rest appears a wilderness of strange But gay confusion ; roses for the cheeks, And lilies for the brows of faded age, Teeth for the toothless, ringlets for the bald...
Pàgina 178 - And taught a brute the way to safe revenge. i would not enter on my list of friends (Though graced with polished manners and fine sense, * Yet wanting sensibility) the man Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm.
Pàgina 151 - And win it with more pain. Their blood is shed In confirmation of the noblest claim, Our claim to feed upon immortal truth, To walk with God, to be divinely free, To soar, and to anticipate the skies.
Pàgina 32 - The hand that gave it, still supplies The gracious light and heat ; His truths upon the nations rise, They rise, but never set. 4 Let everlasting thanks be thine, For such a bright display, As makes a world of darkness shine With beams of heavenly day.
Pàgina 98 - And having dropped the expected bag — pass on. He whistles as he goes, light-hearted wretch, Cold and yet cheerful : messenger of grief Perhaps to thousands, and of joy to some, To him indifferent- whether grief or joy. Houses in ashes, and the fall of stocks, Births, deaths, and marriages, epistles wet With tears that trickled down the writer's cheeks Fast as the periods from his fluent quill, Or charged with amorous sighs of absent swains, Or nymphs responsive, equally affect His horse and him,...
Pàgina 50 - I venerate the man, whose heart is warm, Whose hands are pure, whose doctrine and whose life, Coincident, exhibit lucid proof That he is honest in the sacred cause.
Pàgina 153 - Acquaint thyself with God, if thou wouldst taste His works. Admitted once to his embrace, Thou shalt perceive that thou wast blind before : Thine eye shall be instructed ; and thine heart Made pure shall relish, with divine delight Till then unfelt, what hands divine have wrought.

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