Imatges de pÓgina

Till Outrage arises, or Misery needs
The swift, the intrepid avenger ;
Till sacred Religion or Liberty bleeds,
Then nine be the deed and the danger.


Alas! what a folly, what wealth and domain
We heap up in sin and in sorrow !
Immense is the toil, yet the labour how vain!
Is not life to be over to-morrow?


Then glide on my moments, the few that I have,
Smooth-shaded, and quiet, and ev’n,
While gently the body descends to the grave,
And the spirit arises to heav'n.

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