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Страница 313 - Stern o'er each bosom reason holds her state, With daring aims irregularly great. Pride in their port, defiance in their eye, I see the lords of human kind pass by...
Страница 307 - Hoards after hoards his rising raptures fill, Yet still he sighs, for hoards are wanting still : Thus to my breast alternate passions rise, Pleased with each good that Heaven to man supplies ; Yet oft a sigh prevails, and sorrows fall, To see the hoard of human bliss so small ; And oft I wish, amidst the scene, to find Some spot to real happiness...
Страница 307 - But where to find that happiest spot below Who can direct, when all pretend to know? The shuddering tenant of the frigid zone Boldly proclaims that happiest spot his own; Extols the treasures of his stormy seas, And his long nights of revelry and ease: The naked negro, panting at the Line, Boasts of his golden sands and palmy wine, Basks in the glare, or stems the tepid wave, And thanks his> gods for all the good they gave.
Страница 311 - Clings close and closer to the mother's breast, So the loud torrent and the whirlwind's roar But bind him to his native mountains more. Such are the charms to barren states assign'd; Their wants but few, their wishes all confin'd.
Страница 301 - Tis filled wherever thou dost tread, Nature's self's thy Ganymede. Thou dost drink, and dance, and sing, Happier than the happiest king! All the fields which thou dost see, All the plants belong to thee ; All that summer hours produce, Fertile made with early juice. Man for thee does sow and plough; Farmer he, and landlord thou!
Страница 305 - REMOTE, unfriended, melancholy, slow, Or by the lazy Scheld or wandering Po ; Or onward, where the rude Carinthian boor Against the houseless stranger shuts the door ; Or where Campania's plain forsaken lies, A weary waste expanding to the skies ; Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see, My heart untravell'd fondly turns to thee ; Still to my brother turns, with ceaseless pain, And drags at each remove a lengthening chain.
Страница 270 - Bound on a voyage of awful length And dangers little known, A stranger to superior strength, Man vainly trusts his own. But oars alone can ne'er prevail To reach the distant coast, The breath of heaven must swell the sail, Or all the toil is lost.
Страница 316 - How small of all that human hearts endure, That part which laws or kings can cause or cure! Still to ourselves in every place consign'd, Our own felicity we make or find : * With secret course, which no loud storms annoy, Glides the smooth current of domestic joy. The lifted axe, the agonizing wheel, Luke's iron crown, and Damien's bed of steel, To men remote from power but rarely known, Leave reason, faith, and conscience, all our own.
Страница 269 - WEAK and irresolute is man ; The purpose of to-day, Woven with pains into his plan, To-morrow rends away. The bow well bent and smart the spring, Vice seems already slain, But passion rudely snaps the string, And it revives again.