THE MOST EXTENSIVE
ON THE INTERNET
All things but one you can restore; the heart you get returns no more.
As Egypt does not on the clouds rely
But to the Nile owes more than to the sky;
So what our earth and what our heaven denies
Our ever constant friend, the sea supplies.
The taste of hot Arabia's spice we know,
Free from the scorching sun that makes it grow;
Without the worm in Persia's silks we shine;
And without planting, drink of every vine,
To dig for wealth we weary not our limbs.
Gold, though the heaviest metal hither swims,
Ours is the harvest where the Indians mow.
We plough the deep, and reap what other sow.
But virtue too, as well as vice, is clad in flesh and blood.
Fade, flowers, fade! Nature will have it so; 'tis but what we in our autumn do.
Gods, that never change their state, vary oft their love and hate.
Happy is she that from the world retires, and carries with her what the world admires.
Happy the innocent whose equal thoughts are free from anguish as they are from faults.
He, like Amphion, makes those quarries leap into fair figures from a confused heap.
"His kingdom come!" For this we pray in vain,
Unless He does in our affections reign.
How fond it were to wish for such a King,
And no obedience to his sceptre bring,
Whose yoke is easy, and His burthen light;
His service freedom, and His judgments right.
Ingenious to their ruin, every age improves the art and instruments of rage.
Lampoons, like squibs, may make a present blaze; but time and thunder pay respect to bays.
Music so softens and disarms the mind
That not an arrow does resistance find.
Noble Pity held his hand awhile, and to their choice gave space whether they would prove his valor or his grace.
Seeming devotion does but gild a knave,
That's neither faithful, honest, just, nor brave;
But where religion does with virtue join,
It makes a hero like an angel shine.
Stronger by weakness, wiser men become,
As they draw near to their eternal home.
The coming spring would first appear, and all this place with roses strew, if busy feet would let them grow.
The fear of God is freedom, joy, and peace;
And makes all ills that vex us here to cease.
Vexed sailors curse the rain for which poor shepherds prayed in vain.
Virtue's a stronger guard than brass.
What use of oaths, of promise, or of test, where men regard no God but interest?
When religion doth with virtue join, it makes a hero like an angel shine.
While we converse with her, we mark
No want of day, nor think it dark.
With wisdom fraught; not such as books, but such as practice taught.
And as pale sickness does invade
Your frailer part, the breaches made
In that fair lodging still more clear
Make the bright guest, your soul, appear.
- A la Malade [Beauty]
To love is to believe, to hope, to know;
'Tis an essay, a taste of Heaven below!
- Divine Poems--Divine Love
(canto III, l. 17) [Love]
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