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Who think too little, and who talk too much.
Who thinks all science, as all virtue, vain.
With such deceits he gained their easy hearts, too prone to credit his perfidious arts.
Woman's honor is nice as ermine; it will not bear a soil.
Words are but pictures of our thoughts.
Ye moon and stars, bear witness to the truth.
Ye realms, yet unreveal'd to human sight,
Ye gods who rule the regions of the night,
Ye gliding ghosts permit me to relate
The mystic wonders of your silent state.
Your Words are like the notes of dying swans,
Too sweet to last.
Zeal, the blind conductor of the will.
Night was our friend, our leader was Despair.
- bk. II, 487,
translation of Vergil's "Aeneid"
The soft complaining flute
In dying notes discovers
The woes of hopeless lovers,
Whose dirge is whisper'd by the warbling lute.
- A Song for St. Cecilia's Day [Music]
From harmony, from heavenly harmony,
This universal frame began:
From harmony, to harmony
Through all the compass of the notes it ran,
The diapason closing full in man.
- A Song for St. Cecilia's Day (l. 11)
Some truth there was, but dash'd and brew'd with lies,
To please the fools, and puzzle all the wise.
- Absalom and Achitophel [Lying]
Stiff in opinion, always in the wrong.
- Absalom and Achitophel (I, 545) [Opinion]
Bankrupt of life, yet prodigal of ease.
- Absalom and Achitophel (l. 168) [Life]
Beware the fury of a patient man.
- Absalom and Achitophel (pt. I, l. 1005)
[Anger : Proverbs]
A fiery soul, which, working out its way,
Fretted the pygmy-body to decay,
And o'er-informed the tenement of clay.
- Absalom and Achitophel (pt. I, l. 156)
A daring pilot in extremity;
Pleas'd with the danger, when the waves went high
He sought the storms.
- Absalom and Achitophel (pt. I, l. 159)
Great wits are sure to madness near allied,
And thin partitions do their bounds divide.
- Absalom and Achitophel (pt. I, l. 163)
And all to leave what with his toil he won,
To that unfeather'd two-legged thing, a son.
- Absalom and Achitophel (pt. I, l. 169)
Resolv'd to ruin or to rule the state.
- Absalom and Achitophel (pt. I, l. 174)
And heaven had wanted one immortal song.
- Absalom and Achitophel (pt. I, l. 197)
But wild Ambition loves to slide, not stand,
And Fortune's ice prefers to Virtue's land.
- Absalom and Achitophel (pt. I, l. 198)
Drawn to the dregs of a democracy.
- Absalom and Achitophel (pt. I, l. 227)
The people's prayer, the glad diviner's theme!
The young men's vision, and the old men's dream.
- Absalom and Achitophel (pt. I, l. 238)
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