The Complaint: Or Night Thoughts, and the Force of Religion

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T. Bedlington, 1826 - 288 páginas
 

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Página 28 - Tis greatly wise to talk with our past hours ; And ask them, what report they bore to heaven : And how they might have borne more welcome news.
Página 15 - tis madness to defer: Next day the fatal precedent will plead ; Thus on, till wisdom is push'd out of life. Procrastination is the thief of time ; Year after year it steals, till all are fled, And to the mercies of a moment leaves The vast concerns of an eternal scene.
Página 7 - How poor, how rich, how abject, how august, How complicate, how wonderful, is man!
Página 5 - Tis as the general pulse Of life stood still, and Nature made a pause ; An awful pause ! prophetic of her end.
Página 16 - Tis not in Folly, not to scorn a fool; And scarce in human wisdom, to do more. All promise is poor dilatory man, And that through every stage : when young, indeed, In full content we sometimes nobly rest Unanxious for ourselves; and only wish, As duteous sons, our fathers were more wise. At thirty man suspects himself a fool; Knows it at forty, and reforms his plan...
Página 7 - A worm ! a God ! — I tremble at myself, And in myself am lost. At home -a, stranger, Thought wanders up and down, surprised, aghast, And wondering at her own. How Reason reels ! O what a miracle to man is man ! Triumphantly distress'd ! what joy!
Página 51 - Death is the crown of life : Were death denied, poor man would live in vain : Were death denied, to live would not be life: Were death denied, e'en fools would wish to die. Death wounds to cure; we fall, we rise, we reign! Spring from our fetters, fasten in the skies, Where blooming Eden withers in our sight. Death gives us more than was in Eden lost! This king of terrors is the prince of peace.
Página 23 - 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.
Página 5 - Nature's sweet restorer, balmy Sleep ! He, like the world, his ready visit pays Where Fortune smiles ; the wretched he forsakes ; Swift on his downy pinion flies from woe, And lights on lids unsullied with a tear. 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.
Página 16 - 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.

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