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"The tow'ring height and frightful falls,
"Of smoking kingdoms and their kings,
"That living could not bear to see “An equal, now lies torn and dead, "Here his pale trunk, and there his head; "Great Pompey! while I meditate "With solemn horror thy sad fate,
Thy carcass scatter'd on the shore
"Without a name, instructs me more "Than my whole library before.
"Lie still, my Plutarch, then, and sleep, "And my good Seneca may keep "Your volumes clos'd for ever too, "I have no further use for you : "For when I feel my virtue fail, "And my ambitious thoughts prevail; "I'll take a turn among the tombs, "And see whereto all glory comes. "There the vile foot of ev'ry slave, "Insults a Charles or a Gustave: "Beggars with awful ashes sport, "And tread the Cæsars in the dirt.”
I AM not concern'd to know
Heir to the best part of me.
Glitt❜ring stones and golden things, Wealth and honours that have wings, Ever flutt'ring to be gone,
I could never call my own:
I've a mighty part within That the world hath never seen,
Rich as Eden's happy ground,
Fruits refin'd of noble taste;
There are endless beauties more Earth hath no resemblance for; Nothing like them round the pole, Nothing can describe the soul; 'Tis a region half unknown, That has treasures of its own,
More remote from public view
Broader 'tis and brighter far
Harts or horses strong and fleet,
Yet the silly wand'ring mind, Loth to be too much confin'd, Roves and takes her daily tours, Coasting round the narrow shores, Narrow shores of flesh and sense, Picking shells and pebbles thence; Or she sits at Fancy's door, Calling shapes and shadows to her, Foreign visits still receiving, And t' herself a stranger living. Never, never would she buy Indian dust or Tyrian dye, Never trade abroad for more, If she saw her native store, If her inward worth were known, She might ever live alone.
PARAPHRASE ON THE THIRTEENTH CHAPTER
FIRST EPISTLE TO THE CORINTHIANS.
DID sweeter sounds adorn my flowing tongue,