The age, a poem, moral, political and metaphysical

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Vernor, 1810

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Page 199 - Where-e'er you tread, your foot shall set The primrose and the violet ; All spices, perfumes, and sweet powders, Shall borrow from your breath their odours ; Nature her charter shall renew, And take all lives of things from you ; The world depend upon your eye, And when you frown upon it die : Only our loves shall survive, New worlds and natures to out-live ; And like to heralds moons remain, All crescents, without change or wane.
Page 190 - Thy cheeks are comely with rows of jewels, thy neck with chains of gold.
Page 268 - Tis the temptation of the devil That makes all human actions evil : For Saints may do the same things by The Spirit, in sincerity, Which other men are tempted to, And at the devil's instance do ; And yet the actions be contrary, Just as the Saints and Wicked vary.
Page 250 - At once as far as angels ken he views The dismal situation waste and wild A dungeon horrible, on all sides round As one great furnace flamed, yet from those flames No light, but rather darkness visible Served only to discover sights of woe, Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace And rest can never dwell, hope never comes That comes to all; but torture without...
Page 250 - A dungeon horrible on all sides round As one great furnace flamed; yet from those flames No light; but rather darkness visible Served only to discover sights of woe, Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace And rest can never dwell, hope never comes That comes to all; but torture without end Still urges, and a fiery deluge, fed With ever-burning sulphur unconsumed.
Page 198 - The sun and day shall sooner part, Than love or you shake off my heart ; The sun, that shall no more dispense His own, but your bright influence. I'll carve your name on barks of trees...
Page 198 - Quoth he, My faith, as adamantine, As chains of destiny, I'll maintain ; True as Apollo ever spoke, Or oracle from heart of oak ; And if you'll give my flame but vent, Now in close hugger-mugger pent, And shine upon me but benignly, With that one, and that other pigsney...
Page 190 - I sleep, but my heart waketh: it is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, saying: Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled: for my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night.
Page 231 - Of vermin did at first proceed. So e're the storm of war broke out, Religion spawn'da various rout Of petulant Capricious sects, The maggots of corrupted texts, That first run all religion down, And after ev'ry swarm its own. For as the Persian {h} Magi once Upon their mothers got their sons, That were incapable t...
Page 125 - Great and high, The world knows only two, that's Rome and I. My roof receives me not ; 'tis air I tread ; And, at each step, I feel my advanced head Knock out a star in heaven...

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