The Complaint: Or, Night Thoughs on Life, Death, and Immortality. To which is Prefixed the Life of the Author

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Parker and Bliss, 1812 - 273 pages

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Page 22 - tis madness to defer: Next day the fatal precedent will plead ; Thus on, till wisdom is push'd out of life. Procrastination is the thief of time; Year after year it steals, till all are fled, And to the mercies of a moment leaves The vast concerns of an eternal scene.
Page 13 - I wake : how happy they who wake no more ! Yet that were vain, if dreams infest the grave. I wake, emerging from a sea. of dreams Tumultuous; where my wreck'd, desponding thought, From wave to wave of fancied misery At random drove, her helm of reason lost.
Page 23 - At thirty man suspects himself a fool ; Knows it at forty, and reforms his plan ; At fifty chides his infamous delay, Pushes his prudent purpose to resolve; In all the magnanimity of thought Resolves and re-resolves; then dies the same.
Page 178 - Ocean ! thou dreadful and tumultuous home Of dangers, at eternal war with man ! Death's capital, where most he domineers...
Page 23 - Of man's miraculous mistakes this bears The palm, ' That all men are about to live, For ever on the brink of being born.' All pay themselves the compliment to think They one day shall not drivel : and their pride On this reversion takes up ready praise ; At least, their own ; their future selves applaud How excellent that life they ne'er will lead.
Page 18 - More mortal than the common births of fate. Each Moment has its sickle, emulous, Of Time's enormous scythe, whose ample sweep Strikes empires from the root ; each moment plays His little weapon in the narrower sphere Of sweet domestic comfort, and cuts down The fairest bloom of sublunary bliss.
Page 14 - Lead it through various scenes of life and death, And from each scene the noblest truths inspire. Nor less inspire my conduct than my song ; Teach my best reason, reason; my best will...
Page 37 - To gentle life's descent We shut our eyes, and think it is a plain. We take fair days in winter, for the spring; And turn our blessings into bane.
Page 73 - Though yet unsung, as deem'd, perhaps, too bold ? Angels are men of a superior kind ; Angels are men in lighter habit clad, High o'er celestial mountains wing'd in flight ; And men are angels, loaded for an hour, Who wade this miry vale, and climb with pain, And slippery step, the bottom of the steep.
Page 21 - Is heaven tremendous in its frowns ? Most sure; And in its favours formidable too: Its favours here are trials, not rewards; A call to duty, not discharge from care ; And should alarm us full as much as woes...

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