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arms bards bear beauty beneath bliſs breaſt cauſe charms claim court delight earth eaſe Edward EPIGRAM ev'ry eyes fair falſe fame fate fear feel fire firſt flow fond force gentle give glorious glory grace hand happy head hear heart heav'n Hence honour hope hour human kind king knight laws liberty light lord means mind move muſe muſt nature nature's never o'er once pain peace plain pleaſe pleaſure pow'r praiſe pride prince publick rage reaſon rich riſe round rule ſacred ſame ſee ſenſe ſhade ſhall ſhe ſhould ſmiling ſome ſoul ſtate ſtill ſuch ſweet tell thee theſe thine thoſe thou thought thro throne toils train truth vain virtue voice wealth whoſe wiſe wou'd youth
Page 268 - Gainst graver hours, that bring constraint To sweeten liberty: Some bold adventurers disdain The limits of their little reign And unknown regions dare descry: Still as they run they look behind, They hear a voice in every wind, And snatch a fearful joy.
Page 45 - Seek to be good, but aim not to be great: A woman's noblest station is retreat; Her fairest virtues fly from public sight, Domestic worth, that shuns too strong a light.
Page 270 - That every labouring sinew strains, Those in the deeper vitals rage : Lo, Poverty, to fill the band, That numbs the soul with icy hand And slow-consuming Age. To each his sufferings : all are men, Condemn'd alike to groan ; The tender for another's pain, Th
Page 276 - Eight times emerging from the flood She mew'd to ev'ry watry God, Some speedy aid to send. No Dolphin came, no Nereid stirr'd: Nor cruel Tom, nor Susan heard. A Fav'rite has no friend! From hence, ye Beauties, undeceiv'd, Know, one false step is ne'er retriev'd, And be with caution bold. Not all that tempts your wand'ring eyes And heedless hearts, is lawful prize; Nor all, that glisters, gold.
Page 270 - Th' unfeeling for his own. Yet ah ! why should they know their fate ? Since sorrow never comes too late, And happiness too swiftly flies. Thought would destroy their paradise. No more ; where ignorance is bliss, 'Tis folly to be wise.
Page 267 - A stranger yet to pain! I feel the gales that from ye blow A momentary bliss bestow, As waving fresh their gladsome wing My weary soul they seem to soothe, And, redolent of joy and youth, To breathe a second spring.
Page 39 - To whom I gave my own harmonious lyre, If high exalted on the Throne of Wit, Near Me and Homer thou afpire to...
Page 75 - E'en for the kid or lamb that pour'd its life Beneath the bloody knife, Her gentle tears would fall, Tears from sweet virtue's source, benevolent to all.