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appear arms bard bear beauty blood bring cause charms common court dare death died doubt dreadful Earl equal eyes face fair fame fate fear fire foes gave give gods grace grave half hand head hear heart Heaven hold honour hour kind king known land learned less letter light live Lord mean mind Muse nature never night o'er once peace persons plain pleasure poem poet poor Pope praise present pride rage reason rest rise round sacred sense shade side smile soul sound stand sweet tell thee things thou thought thousand took truth turn virtue whilst whole Wilkes youth
Página 202 - God loves from whole to parts: but human soul Must rise from individual to the whole. Self-love but serves the virtuous mind to wake, As the small pebble stirs the peaceful lake; The centre moved, a circle straight succeeds, Another still, and still another spreads; Friend, parent, neighbour, first it will embrace; His country next; and next all human race...
Página 315 - Let humble Allen, with an awkward shame, Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame.
Página 122 - I hear a voice, you cannot hear, " Which says, I must not stay; " I see a hand, you cannot see,
Página 120 - Twas there of just and good he reason'd strong, Clear'd some great truth, or rais'd some serious song : There patient show'd us the wise course to steer, A candid censor, and a friend severe ; There taught us how to live ; and (oh ! too high The price for knowledge) taught us how to die.
Página 205 - But when contending chiefs blockade the throne, Contracting regal power to stretch their own ; When I behold a factious band agree To call it freedom when themselves are free ; Each wanton judge new penal statutes draw, Laws grind the poor^ and rich men rule the law...
Página 8 - I assured him that I did not at all take it ill of Mr. Tickell that he was going to publish his translation; that he certainly had as much right to translate any author as myself; and that publishing both was entering on a fair stage.
Página 120 - O'er my dim eyeballs glance- the sudden tears ! How sweet were once thy prospects fresh and fair, Thy sloping walks and unpolluted air ! ' How sweet the glooms beneath thy aged trees, Thy noontide shadow and thy evening breeze ! His image thy forsaken bowers restore ; Thy walks and airy prospects charm no more ; No more the summer in thy glooms allay'd, Thy evening breezes, and thy noonday shade.
Página 118 - To strew fresh laurels, let the task be mine, A frequent pilgrim, at thy sacred shrine ; Mine with true sighs thy absence to bemoan, And grave with faithful epitaphs thy stone.