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But truths on which depends our main concern, That 'tis our shame and misery not to learn, Shine by the side of every path we tread With such a lustre he that runs may read. - Tirocinium (l. 77) [Reading] The path of sorrow, and that path alone, Leads to the lands where sorrow is unknown. - To an Afflicted Protestant Lady [Sorrow] They best can judge a poet's worth, Who oft themselves have known The pangs of a poetic birth By labours of their own. - To Dr. Darwin (st. 2) [Poets] Greece, sound, thy Homer's, Rome thy Virgil's name, But England's Milton equals both in fame. - To John Milton [Poets] Without one friend, above all foes, Britannia gives the world repose. - To Sir Joshua Reynolds [England] And he by no uncommon lot Was famed for virtues he had not. - To the Rev. William Bull (l. 19) [Virtue] If hindrances obstruct the way, Thy magnanimity display. And let thy strength be seen: But O, if Fortune fill thy sail With more than a propitious gale, Take half thy canvas in. - Translation of Horace (bk. II, ode 10) [Fortune] The sounding jargon of the schools. - Truth (l. 367) [Teaching] His mind his kingdom, and his will his law. - Truth (l. 405) [Mind] How fleet is a glance of the mind! Compared with the speed of its flight, The tempest itself lags behind, And the swift-winged arrows of light. - Verses supposed to be written by Alexander Selkirk [Mind] I am monarch of all I survey, My right there is none to dispute, From the centre all round to the sea, I am lord of the fowl and the brute. - Verses supposed to be written by Alexander Selkirk [Royalty] O solitude, where are the charms That sages have seen in thy face? Better dwell in the midst of alarms, Than reign in this horrible place. - Verses supposed to be written by Alexander Selkirk [Solitude] What peaceful hours I once enjoy'd! How sweet their memory still! But they have left an aching void The world can never fill. - Walking with God [Memory] He whistles as he goes, light-hearted wretch, Cold and yet cheerful; messenger of grief Perhaps to thousands, and of joy to some. - Winter Evening (bk. IV, l. 12), of the postman [Post] A kick that scarce would move a horse, May kill a sound divine. - Yearly Distress (st. 16) [Preaching] The priest he merry is, and blithe Three-quarters of a year, But oh! it cuts him like a scythe When tithing time draws near. - Yearly Distress (st. 2) [Preaching] Displaying page 14 of 14 for this author: << Prev 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 [14]
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