Strana 56 - Thy bolts to throw, And deal damnation round the land, On each I judge Thy foe. If I am right, Thy grace impart Still in the right to stay ; If I am wrong, oh, teach my heart...
Strana 82 - TO wake the foul by tender ftrokes of art, To raife the genius, and to mend the heart ; To make mankind, in confcious virtue bold, Live o'er each fcene, and be what they behold : For this the Tragic Mufe firft trod the ftage, 5 Commanding tears to ftream thro' ev'ry age ; Tyrants no more their favage nature kept, And foes to virtue wonder'd how they wept.
Strana 54 - What conscience dictates to be done, Or warns me not to do, This teach me more than hell to shun, That more than heaven pursue.
Strana 82 - Commanding tears to stream through every age; Tyrants no more .their savage nature kept, And foes to virtue wonder'd how they wept. Our author shuns by vulgar springs to move The hero's glory, or the virgin's love; In pitying love we but our weakness show, And wild ambition well deserves its woe.
Strana 52 - THE UNIVERSAL PRAYER. FATHER of all ! in every age, In every clime adored, By saint, by savage, and by sage, Jehovah, Jove, or Lord ! Thou great First Cause, least understood, Who all my sense confined To know but this, that Thou art good, And that myself am blind ; Yet gave me, in this dark estate, To see the good from ill ; And binding nature fast in fate, Left free the human...
Strana 62 - Oceano dissociabili terras, si tamen impiae non tangenda rates transiliunt vada. audax omnia perpeti gens humana ruit per vetitum nefas. audax lapeti genus ignem fraude mala gentibus intulit. post ignem aetheria domo subductum macies et nova febrium terris incubuit cohors, semotique prius tarda necessitas leti corripuit gradum.
Strana 58 - I am, not wholly fo, Since quick'ned by thy Breath ; O lead me wherefoe'er I go, Thro' this day's Life or Death. This day, be Bread and Peace my Lot : All elfe beneath the Sun, Thou know'ft if beft beftow'd or not, And let thy Will be done.
Strana 92 - If when the darling maid is gone, Thou dost not seek to be alone, Wrapt in a pleasing trance of tender woe, And muse, and fold thy languid arms, Feeding thy fancy on her charms, Thou dost not love, — for love is nourished so.