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It was that fatal and perfidious bark, Built in th' eclipse, and rigg'd with curses dark.
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They also serve who only stand and wait.
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Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould Breathe such divine enchanting ravishment?
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First Moloch, horrid king, besmirched in blood, Of Human sacrifice, and parent's tears, Though, for the noise of drums and timbrels loud, Their childrens' cries unheard, that passed through fire, To his grim idol.
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There swift return Diurnal, merely to officiate light Round this opacous earth, this punctual spot.
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Time, though in Eternity, applied To motion, measures all things durable By present, past, and future.
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Ladies, whose bright eyesRain influence, and judge the prize.
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I will point ye out the right path of a virtuous and noble Education; laborious indeed at first ascent, but else so smooth, so green, so full of goodly prospect, and melodious sounds on every side, that the harp of Orpheus was not more charming.
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The virtuous mind that ever walks attended By a strong siding champion, Conscience.
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Here the great art lies, to discern in what the law is to be to restraint and punishment, and in what things persuasion only is to work.
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And, re-assembling our afflicted powers, consult how we may henceforth most offend.
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Love Virtue, she alone is free, She can teach ye how to climb Higher than the sphery chime; Or, if Virtue feeble were, Heav'n itself would stoop to her.
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What am I pondering, you ask? So help me God, immortality.
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Revenge, at first though sweet, Bitter ere long back on itself recoils.
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The work under our labour grows, Luxurious by restraint.
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What wisdom can there be to choose, what continence to forbear without the knowledge of evil? He that can apprehend and consider vice with all her baits and seeming pleasures, and yet abstain, and yet distinguish, and yet prefer that which is truly better, he is the true wayfaring Christian.
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Contemplation is wisdom's best nurse.
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Sufficient to have stood, though free to fall.
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Give me the liberty to know, to utter, and to argue freely according to conscience, above all liberties.
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He that studieth revenge keepeth his own wounds green, which otherwise would heal and do well.
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Lords are lordliest in their wine.
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And storied windows richly dight,Casting a dim religious light.There let the pealing organ blow,To the full-voiced choir below,In service high, and anthems clearAs may, with sweetness, through mine earDissolve me into ecstasies,And bring all heaven before mine eyes.
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By labor and intent study (which I take to be my portion in this life), joined with the strong propensity of nature, I might perhaps leave something so written to after-times, as they should not willingly let it die.
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The world was all before them, where to choose Their place of rest, and Providence their guide: They hand in hand, with wandering steps and slow, Through Eden took their solitary way.