The Poetical Works of the Rev. Dr. Edward Young: With the Life of the Author, Volum 3

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Benjamin Johnson, Jacob Johnson, & Robert Johnson, 1805
 

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Pàgina 37 - Who burst the barriers of my peaceful grave ? Ah ! cruel death, that would no longer save, But grudg'd me e'en that narrow dark abode, And cast me out into the wrath of God ; Where shrieks, the roaring flame, the rattling chain, And all the dreadful eloquence of pain, Our only song ; black fire's malignant light, The sole refreshment of the blasted sight.
Pàgina 26 - Voices seraphic ; blest with such a strain, Could Satan hear, he were a god again. Triumphant King of Glory ! Soul of bliss ! What a stupendous turn of fate is this...
Pàgina 19 - The most magnificent and costly dome Is but an upper chamber to a tomb. No spot on earth but has supplied a grave, And human skulls the spacious ocean pave. All's full of man ; and at this dreadful turn, The swarm shall issue, and the hive shall burn.
Pàgina 29 - Reign o'er my will ; my passions ebb and flow At thy command, nor human motive know ! If anger boil, let anger be my praise, And sin the graceful indignation raise. My love be warm to succour the distress'd, And lift the burden from the soul oppress'd.
Pàgina 80 - Who shall stand up, dictators to mankind ? Nay who dare shine, if not in virtue's cause ? That sole proprietor of just applause. Ye restless men, who pant for letter'd praise, With whom would you consult to gain the bays ? — "With those great authors whose fam'd works you read ? 'Tis well : go, then, consult the laurell'd shade.
Pàgina 38 - And this for sin ? Could I offend if I had never been ? But still increas'd the senseless, happy mass, Flow'd in the stream, or shiver' d in the grass ? Father of mercies ! why from silent earth Didst Thou awake and curse me into birth ? Tear me from quiet, ravish me from night, And make a thankless present of Thy light ? Push into being a reverse of Thee, And animate a clod with misery...
Pàgina 76 - Poor Elkanah, all other changes past, For bread in Smithfield dragons hiss'd at last, Spit streams of fire to make the butchers gape, And found his manners suited to his shape, &c.
Pàgina 148 - Then furies rise ! the battle raves! And rends the skies, and warms the waves ! And calls a tempest from the peaceful deep, In spite of Nature, spite of Jove, While all serene, and hush'd above, Tumultuous winds in azure chambers sleep. A thousand deaths the bursting bomb Hurls from her disembowel'd womb; Chain'd, glowing...
Pàgina 3 - Cum sonitu, fervetque fretis spirantibus aequor. Ipse Pater, media nimborum in nocte, corusca Fulmina molitur dextra : quo maxima motu Terra tremit : fugere ferae, et mortalia corda Per gentes humilis stravit pavor...
Pàgina 31 - And with strong faith foment the holy fire ! Stretch out my soul in hope, and grasp the prize, Which in eternity's deep bosom lies ! At the great day of recompense behold, Devoid of fear, the fatal book unfold ! Then wafted upward to the blissful seat, From age to age, my grateful song repeat ; My light, my life, my God, my Saviour see, And rival angels in the praise of thee.

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