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ambition angels awful beneath bids blest bliss cause creation dark death deep Deity delight divine dread dust earth eternal ev'ry fair fall fate fear feel fire flame fool future give glory gods grave guilt half hand happiness hear heart heav'n Heaven's hope hour human immortal kind leave less life's light live look Lorenzo man's mankind mean mind mortal nature nature's never night o'er once pain passion past peace pleasure poor pow'r praise present pride proud reason rich rise round scene seen sense shades shines sight skies smile song soon soul speak sphere spirit stars strange strike thee theme thine things thou thought thousand throne triumph true truth turn virtue whole wide wing wisdom wise wish wonder wretched
Page 2 - The bell strikes one. 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 It is the signal that demands despatch: How much is to be done!
Page 12 - And why ? Because he thinks himself immortal. All men think all men mortal, but themselves ; Themselves, when some alarming shock of fate Strikes through their wounded hearts the sudden dread : But their hearts wounded, like the wounded air, Soon close ; where pass'd the shaft, no trace is found. As from the wing no scar the sky retains ; The parted wave no furrow from the keel ; So dies in human hearts the thought of death : Even with the tender tear which Nature sheds O'er those we love, we drop...
Page 18 - The man who consecrates his hours By vigorous effort, and an honest aim, At once he draws the sting of life and death : He walks with nature ; and her paths are peace.
Page 185 - Some angel guide my pencil, while I draw, What nothing less than angel can exceed, A man on earth devoted to the skies; Like ships in seas, while in, above the world. With aspect mild, and elevated eye, Behold him seated on a mount serene, Above the fogs of sense, and passion's storm ; All the black cares and tumults of this life, Like harmless thunders, breaking at his feet, Excite his pity, not impair his peace.
Page 12 - As duteous sons, our fathers were more wise. 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. And why ? Because he thinks himself immortal. All men think all men mortal, but themselves ; Themselves, when some alarming shock of fate Strikes thro...
Page 3 - It is the signal that demands despatch: How much is to be done! My hopes and fears Start up alarmed, and o'er life's narrow verge Look down — on what ? A fathomless abyss ! A dread eternity! How surely mine! And can eternity belong to me, Poor pensioner on the bounties of an hour?
Page 1 - 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. I wake, emerging from a sea of dreams Tumultuous ; where my wreck'd desponding thought, From wave to wave of fancied misery, At random drove, her helm of reason lost.
Page 17 - To man's false optics (from his folly false) Time, in advance, behind him hides his wings, And seems to creep, decrepit with his age : Behold him, when past by ; what then is seen, But his broad pinions swifter than the winds? And all mankind, in contradiction strong, Rueful, aghast ! cry out on his career.