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Detested sport, That owes its pleasures to another's pain.
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Restraining prayer, we cease to fight; Prayer keeps the Christian's armor bright; And Satan trembles when he sees The weakest saint upon his knees.
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Anticipated rents, and bills unpaid, Force many a shining youth into the shade, Not to redeem his time, but his estate, And play the fool, but at the cheaper rate.
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Sacred interpreter of human thought, How few respect or use thee as they ought! But all shall give account of every wrong, Who dare dishonor or defile the tongue; Who prostitute it in the cause of vice, Or sell their glory at a market-price!
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To follow foolish precedents, and wink With both our eyes, is easier than to think.
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Go, mark the matchless working of the power That shuts within the seed the future flower; Bids these in elegance of form excel. In color these, and those delight the smell; Sends nature forth, the daughter of the skies, To dance on earth, and charm all human eyes.
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I seem forsaken and alone, / I hear the lion roar; / And every door is shut but one, / And that is Mercy's door.
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Some drill and bore The solid earth, and from the strata there Extract a register, by which we learn, That he who made it, and reveal'd its date To Moses, was mistaken in its age.
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The man that dares traduce, because he can with safety to himself, is not a man.
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...So let us welcome peaceful evening in.
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And in that hour, The seeds of cruelty, that since have swell'd To such gigantic and enormous growth, Were sown in human nature's fruitful soil. Hence date the persecution and the pain That man inflicts on all inferior kinds, Regardless of their plaints.
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Scenes must be beautiful which daily view'd Please daily, and whose novelty survives Long knowledge and the scrutiny of years.
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Stamps God's own name upon a lie just made, To turn a penny in the way of trade.
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Domestic happiness, thou only bliss Of paradise that has surviv'd the fall!
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And diff'ring judgments serve but to declare that truth lies somewhere, if we knew but where.
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The few that pray at all pray oft amiss.
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He that runs may read.
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Nor rural sights alone, but rural sounds, Exhilirate the spirit, and restore The tone of languid nature.
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Heaven speed the canvas, gallantly unfurl'd, To furnish and accommodate a world, To give the Pole the produce of the sun, And knit the unsocial climates into one.
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The parson knows enough who knows a Duke.
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They fix attention, heedless of your pain, With oaths like rivets forced into the brain; And e'en when sober truth prevails throughout, They swear it, till affirmance breeds a doubt.
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Not a flower But shows some touch, in freckle, streak or stain, Of his unrivall'd pencil. He inspires Their balmy odors, and imparts their hues, And bathes their eyes with nectar, and includes In grains as countless as the seaside sands, The forms with which he sprinkles all the earth Happy who walks with him!
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Our love is principle, and has its root In reason, is judicious, manly, free.
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Nature, exerting an unwearied power, Forms, opens, and gives scent to every flower; Spreads the fresh verdure of the field, and leads The dancing Naiads through the dewy meads.