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The man forget not, though in rags he lies, and know the mortal through a crown's disguise.
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This was Shakespeare's form; who walked in every path of human life, felt every passion; and to all mankind doth now, will ever, that experience yield which his own genius only could acquire.
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Pall on her temper, like a twice-told tale.
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Others of graver mien; behold, adorn'dWith holy ensigns, how sublime they move,And bending oft their sanctimonious eyesTake homage of the simple-minded throng;Ambassadors of heaven!
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Man loves knowledge, and the beams of truthMore welcome touch his understanding's eyeThan all the blandishments of sound his ear,Than all of taste his tongue.
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Youth calls for Pleasure, Pleasure calls for Love.
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Seeks painted trifles and fantastic toys, and eagerly pursues imaginary joys.
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Such and so various are the tastes of men.
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Can art, alas! or genius guide the headWhere truth and freedom from the heart are fled?Can lesser wheels repeat their native stroke,When the prime function of the soul is broke?
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Than Timoleon's arms require,And Tully's curule chair, and Milton's golden lyre.
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Adieu, for him,The dull engagements of the bustling world!Adieu the sick impertinence of praise!And hope, and action! for with her alone,By streams and shades, to steal these sighing hours,Is all he asks, and all that fate can give!
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Rustic herald of the spring.
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The Providence of heavenHas some peculiar blessing givenTo each allotted state below.
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O'er yonder eastern hill the twilight paleWalks forth from darkness; and the God of day,With bright Astraea seated by his side,Waits yet to leave the ocean.