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Page 358 - IT must be so Plato, thou reason'st well ! — Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire, This longing after immortality ? Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror, Of falling into nought? why shrinks the soul Back on herself, and startles at destruction ? 'Tis the divinity that stirs within us; 'Tis heaven itself, that points out an hereafter, And intimates eternity to man.
Page 350 - Honour's a sacred tie, the law of kings, The noble mind's distinguishing perfection, That aids and strengthens virtue where it meets her, And imitates her actions, where she is not : It ought not to be sported with.
Page 358 - Content thyself to be obscurely good. When vice prevails, and impious men bear sway, The post of honour is a private station.
Page 33 - Of which he borrowed some to quench his thirst, And paid the nymph again as much in tears. A garland lay him by...
Page 344 - Tis not a set of features, or complexion, The tincture of a skin that I admire. Beauty soon grows familiar to the lover, Fades in his eye, and palls upon the sense.
Page 213 - I'm only troubled, The life I bear is worn to such a rag, 'Tis scarce worth giving. I could wish, indeed, We threw it from us with a better grace; That, like two lions taken in the toils, We might at least thrust out our paws, and wound The hunters that inclose us.
Page 358 - The wide, the unbounded prospect lies before me; But shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it. Here will I hold. If there's a power above us — And that there is, all nature cries aloud Through all her works — He must delight in virtue; And that which He delights in must be happy.
Page 248 - Ohy woman! lovely woman! nature made thee .To temper man : we had been brutes without you. Angels are painted fair, to look like you : There's in you all that we believe of Heaven, Amazing brightness, purity, and truth, Eternal joy, and everlasting love.
Page 199 - VENT. Him would I see; that man, of all the world: Just such a one we want. ANT. He loved me too; I was his soul ; he lived not but in me : We were so closed within each other's breasts, The rivets were not found, that joined us first. That does not reach us yet : we were so mixt, As meeting streams, both to ourselves were lost...