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Romance and novel paint beauty in colors more charming than nature, and describe a happiness that humans never taste. How deceptive and destructive are those pictures of consummate bliss!
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Careless their merits or their faults to scan,His pity gave ere charity began.Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride,And e'en his failings leaned to Virtue's side.
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When lovely woman stoops to folly, and finds too late that men betray, what charm can soothe her melancholy, what art can wash her guilt away?
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The dog, to gain some private ends,Went mad, and bit the man.
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The jests of the rich are ever successful.
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To me more dear, congenial to my heart,One native charm, than all the gloss of art.
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Alike all ages. Dames of ancient daysHave led their children through the mirthful maze,And the gay grandsire, skill'd in gestic lore,Has frisk'd beneath the burden of threescore.
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But winter lingering chills the lap of May.
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Our Garrick's a salad; for in him we seeOil, vinegar, sugar, and saltness agree!
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And what is friendship but a name,A charm that lulls to sleep,A shade that follows wealth or fame,And leaves the wretch to weep?
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For just experience tells; in every soil,That those that think must govern those that toil.
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By sports like these are all their cares beguil'd;The sports of children satisfy the child.
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A man he was to all the country dear,And passing rich with forty pounds a year.
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Vain, very vain, my weary search to findThat bliss which only centers in the mind.
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He calls his extravagance, generosity; and his trusting everybody, universal benevolence.
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The sigh that rends thy constant heartShall break thy Edwin's too.
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Creation's heir, the world, the world is mine!
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Truth from his lips prevailed with double sway,And fools, who came to scoff, remained to pray.
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Pride in their port, defiance in their eye,I see the lords of humankind pass by.
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Silence gives consent.
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Measures, not men, have always been my mark.
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Forc'd from their homes, a melancholy train,To traverse climes beyond the western main;Where wild Oswego spreads her swamps around,And Niagara stuns with thundering sound.
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No flocks that range the valley freeTo slaughter I condemn;Taught by that Power that pities me,I learn to pity them:But from the mountain’s grassy sideA guiltless feast I bring;A scrip with herbs and fruits supplied,And water from the spring.
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And in that town a dog was found,As many dogs there be,Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound,And curs of low degree.