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Baxter beautiful believe better Bishop called Catholic cause century Christian Church close common dark death duty early effect England evil eyes faith father fear feel felt fire freedom give hand head hear heart hills hold honor hope human Indians interest John justice King labors land learned leave less liberty light lived look Lord matter means meeting mind month nature never night occasion once party passed period political poor preach present priest prison Quakers question reason received reform regarded religious respect Roberts says seems side slave slavery soldiers soul speak spirit stand strong suffering thee things thou thought tion took town true truth turned whole written young
Page 93 - What wondrous life is this I lead ! Ripe apples drop about my head ; The luscious clusters of the vine Upon my mouth do crush their wine ; The nectarine and curious peach Into my hands themselves do reach ; Stumbling on melons, as I pass, Ensnared with flowers, I fall on grass.
Page 97 - Though Justice against Fate complain, And plead the ancient rights in vain: But those do hold or break As men are strong or weak.
Page 326 - But war's a game, which, were their subjects wise, Kings would not play at.
Page 30 - I am somewhat too fond of these great mercies, but also because I should have often brought to my mind the many hardships, miseries, and wants, that my poor family was like to meet with, should I be taken from them, especially my poor blind child, who lay nearer my heart than all beside. Oh ! the thoughts of the hardship I thought my poor blind one might go under, would break my heart to pieces.
Page 94 - Then, languishing with ease, I toss On pallets swoln of velvet moss, While the wind, cooling through the boughs, Flatters with air my panting brows.
Page 184 - Glorious in beauty though it be, is scarred With tokens of old wars; thy massive limbs Are strong with struggling. Power at thee has launched His bolts, and with his lightnings smitten thee : They could not quench the life thou hast from heaven.
Page 184 - FREEDOM ! thou art not; as poets dream, A fair young girl, with light and delicate limbs, And wavy tresses gushing from the cap With which the Roman master crowned his slave When he took off the gyves.
Page 102 - The tone and temper of his mind may be most fitly expressed in his own paraphrase of Horace : " Climb at Court for me that will, Tottering Favor's pinnacle ; All I seek is to lie still ! Settled in some secret nest, In calm leisure let me rest ; And, far off the public stage, Pass away my silent age. Thus, when, without noise, unknown, I have lived out all my span, I shall die without a groan, An old, honest countryman.
Page 32 - This black den which rocks emboss, Overgrown with eldest moss: The rude portals that give light More to terror than delight; This my chamber of neglect, Walled about with disrespect. From all these, and this dull air, A fit object for despair, She hath taught me by her might To draw comfort and delight.