The Poetical Works of Edward Young, Band 1Little, Brown, 1854 - 366 Seiten |
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ambition angels Anne Wharton art thou beam beneath bids blest bliss blood divine boast boundless Busiris charms creation dark death deep Deity delight divine dost dread dust earth EDWARD YOUNG endless eternal ethereal Ev'n ev'ry fair fate flame fond fool give glorious glory gods grave grief guilt happiness heart heaven Herbert Croft hope hour human illustrious infidels life's light live Lorenzo man's mankind midnight mind mortal Narcissa nature nature's ne'er night Night Thoughts nought numbers o'er Omnipotence pain passion peace Philander pleasure poem praise pride proud reason rise sacred says scene sense shines sigh sight skies smile song soul immortal sphere stars strange Tatler thee theme thine thought thro throne thy disease tomb triumph truth virtue virtue's Voltaire wing wisdom wise wish wonder wretched ye stars Young
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 8 - This is the bud of being, the dim dawn, The twilight of our day, the vestibule; Life's theatre as yet is shut, and death, Strong death, alone can heave the massy bar, This gross impediment of clay remove, And make us embryos of existence free.
Seite 3 - 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.
Seite 32 - 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.
Seite l - For letting down the golden chain from high, He drew his audience upward to the sky...
Seite 6 - Distinguished link in being's endless chain ! Midway from nothing to the Deity ! A beam ethereal, sullied and absorpt ! Though sullied and dishonoured, still divine ! Dim miniature of greatness absolute ! An heir of glory ! a frail child of dust : Helpless immortal ! insect infinite ! A worm ! a god ! I tremble at myself, And in myself am lost.
Seite 65 - Why all this toil for triumphs of an hour ? What though we wade in wealth, or soar in fame ? Earth's highest station ends in, " Here he lies," And " Dust to dust
Seite 46 - Woes cluster; rare are solitary woes; They love a train, they tread each other's heel; Her death invades his mournful right, and claims The grief that started from my lids for Him: Seizes the faithless, alienated tear, Or shares it, ere it falls.
Seite 16 - tis madness to defer: Next day the fatal precedent will plead; Thus on, till wisdom is pushed 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.
Seite 4 - Night, sable goddess ! from her ebon throne, In rayless majesty now stretches forth Her leaden sceptre o'er a slumbering world. Silence how dead ! and darkness how profound! Nor eye nor listening ear an object finds; Creation sleeps. 'Tis as the general pulse Of life stood still, and Nature made a pause; An awful pause! prophetic of her end.
Seite 139 - But wherefore envy ? talents angel-bright, If wanting worth, are shining instruments In false ambition's hand, to finish faults Illustrious, and give infamy renown. Great ill is an achievement of great powers.