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The world recedes; it disappears! Heav'n opens on my eyes! my ears With sounds seraphic ring! Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly! O grave! where is thy victory? O death! where is thy sting?
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Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll; Charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul.
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Father of all! in every age, In every clime adored, By saint, by savage, and by sage, Jehovah, Jove, or Lord!
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Not chaos-like together crush'd and bruis'd, But as the world, harmoniously confus'd, Where order in variety we see, And where, though all things differ, all agree.
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They shift the moving toyshop of their heart.
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Know, sense, like charity, begins at home.
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Absent or dead, still let a friend be dear.
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The meeting points the sacred hair dissever From the fair head, forever, and forever! Then flashed the living lightning from her eyes, And screams of horror rend th' affrighted skies.
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Luxurious lobster-nights, farewell, For sober, studious days!
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The garlands fade, the vows are worn away; So dies her love, and so my hopes decay.
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The stoic husband was the glorious thing.The man had courage, was a sage, 'tis true,And lov'd his country.
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On her white breast a sparkling cross she wore Which Jews might kiss, and infidels adore.
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Now lap-dogs give themselves the rousing shake, And sleepless lovers, just at twelve, awake.
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From old Belerium to the northern main.
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Hark! they whisper; angels say, Sister spirit, come away!
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Party is the madness of many, for the gain of a few.
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I never knew any man in my life who could not bear another's misfortunes perfectly like a Christian.
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Nothing can be more shocking and horrid than one of our kitchens sprinkled with blood, and abounding with the cries of expiring victims, or with the limbs of dead animals scattered or hung up here and there. It gives one the image of a giant's den in a romance, bestrewed with scattered heads and mangled limbs.
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Is it, in Heav'n, a crime to love too well? To bear too tender, or too firm a heart, To act a lover's or a Roman's part? Is there no bright reversion in the sky, For those who greatly think, or bravely die?
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A person who is too nice an observer of the business of the crowd, like one who is too curious in observing the labour of the bees, will often be stung for his curiosity.
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If I am right, Thy grace import Still in the right to stay; If I am wrong, oh teach my heart To find that better way!
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Some old men, by continually praising the time of their youth, would almost persuade us that there were no fools in those days; but unluckily they are left themselves for examples.
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There, take (says Justice), take ye each a shell: We thrive at Westminster on fools like you; 'T was a fat oyster,-live in peace,-adieu.
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Who ne'er knew joy but friendship might divide, Or gave his father grief but when he died.