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ainſi auſſi bêtes bliſs bonheur c'eſt call cauſe Ciel Cieux contentement créatures Critique Dieu différentes doit donne each earth également eſt état étoit fans find firſt foible folie font fool force forms fortune friend général génie gives good gouverne great heav'n heureux Hommes humain juſt know l'amour l'amour propre l'autre l'eſprit l'Homme l'orgueil l'un laws life loix love made main makes ment mind monde morale mort mourir muſt n'eſt nature never ouvrage paſſions Pere plaiſir Pope pow'r premier pride propre qu'un raiſon rapport reaſon richeſſes rien right riſe s'il ſans ſes ſeul ſeule ſoit ſome ſon ſont ſtill ſur tems terre their theſe things thoſe thro trouve vent vérité vertu vice virtue want weak whole world
Page 30 - With too much knowledge for the Sceptic side, With too much weakness for the Stoic's pride, He hangs between, in doubt to act or rest; In doubt to deem himself a God or Beast; In doubt his mind or body to prefer; Born but to die, and reas'ning but to err...
Page 25 - Lives through all life, extends through all extent, Spreads undivided, operates unspent; Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part, As full, as perfect, in a hair as heart; As full, as perfect, in vile man that mourns, As the rapt seraph that adores and burns; To him no high, no low, no great, no small; He fills, he bounds, connects, and equals all.
Page 97 - tis the price of toil; The knave deserves it, when he tills the soil, The knave deserves it, when he tempts the main, Where folly fights for kings, or dives for gain. The good man may be weak, be indolent; Nor is his claim to plenty, but content.
Page 57 - Know, Nature's children all divide her care; The fur that warms a monarch warm'da bear. While man exclaims, "See all things for my use!
Page 49 - The learn'd is happy nature to explore, The fool is happy that he knows no more ; The rich is happy in the plenty given, The poor contents him with the care of Heaven.
Page 82 - Parnassian laurels yield, Or reap'd in iron harvests of the field ? Where grows? where grows it not ? if vain our toil, We ought to blame the culture, not the soil.
Page 30 - Created half to rise, and half to fall: Great lord of all things, yet a prey to all; Sole judge of truth, in endless error hurl'd; The glory jest, and riddle of the world!
Page 54 - Joy tunes his voice, joy elevates his wings. Is it for thee the linnet pours his throat ? Loves of his own and raptures swell the note.