The Works of the English Poets: Young

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H. Hughs, 1779
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Page 40 - to a god. 630 The chamber where the good man meets his fate, Is privileg'd beyond the common walk ^ Of virtuous life, quite in the verge of heaven. Fly, ye profane ! If not, draw near with awe, Receive the bleffing, and adore the chance, 635
Page 62 - The deep damp vault, the darknefs, and the worm ; Thefe are the bugbears of a winter's eve, The terrors of the living, not the dead. Imaginations fool, and error's wretch, Man makes a death, which nature never made; 15 Then on the point of his own fancy falls ; And feels a
Page 20 - For Efculapian, but for moral aid. Thou think'ft it folly to be wife too foon. Youth is not rich in Time, it may be poor; Part with it as with money, fparing; pay No moment, but in purchafe of its worth; 50 And what its worth,
Page 47 - Deny'd his wonted fuccour; nor with more Regret beheld her drooping, than the bells Of lilies ; faireft lilies, not fo fair! Queen lilies ! and ye painted populace! Who dwell in fields, and lead ambrofial lives; $ In morn and evening dew, your beauties bathe, And drink the fun ; which gives your cheeks to glow, And
Page 16 - out of life. Procraftination is the thief of time; Year after year it fteals, till all are fled, And to the mercies of a moment leaves 395 The vaft concerns of an eternal
Page 80 - 550 To wretched man, the goddefs in her left, Holds out this world, and, in her right, the next; Religion! the fole voucher man is man ; Supporter fole of man above himfelf; Ev'n in this night of frailty, change, and death, 555 She gives the foul a foul that
Page 232 - rife. 685 Heaven bade the foul this mortal frame infpire ; Bade virtue's ray divine infpire the foul With unprecarious flows of vital joy ; And, without breathing, man as well might hope For life, as without piety, for peace. 690 " Is virtue, then, and piety the fame ?" No; piety is more; 'tis virtue's fource ; Mother of
Page 147 - night darker than the grave's ? Who fight the proofs of immortality? With horrid zeal, and execrable arts, Work all their engines, level their black fires, 645 To blot from man this attribute divine, (Than vital blood far dearer to the wife) Blafphemers, and rank atheifts to themfelves ? To contradift them, fee all nature rife! What
Page 8 - glow, In His full beam, and ripen for the juft, Where momentary ages are no more ! Where time, and pain, and chance, and death expire! 145 And is it in the flight of threefcore years, To pufh eternity from human thought, And fmother fouls immortal in the duft ? A foul immortal, fpending all her fires, Wafting her ftrength in ftrenuous idlenefs,
Page 45 - woes; They love a train, they tread each other's heel; Her death invades his mournful right, and claims 65 The grief that ftarted from my lids for Him; Seizes the faithlefs, alienated tear, Or fhares it, ere it falls. So frequent death, Sorrow he more than caufes, he confounds ; For human fighs his rival ftrokes contend,

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