Page images
[ocr errors][merged small]

comparing the parts, or seeing all at once the harmony. MEN’s zeal for religion is much of the same kind as that

[ocr errors][ocr errors][graphic]
[ocr errors]

The chief advantage that ancient writers can boast over modern ones seems owing to fimplicity. Every noble truth and sentiment was expressed by the former in a natural manner, in a word and phrase simple, perspicuous, and incapable of improvement. What then remained for later writers, but affectation, witticism, and conceit *

[ocr errors]

V V HAT a piece of work is man! how noble in reafon how infinite in faculties 1 in form and moving, how express and admirable ! in ačtion, how hke an angel! in apprehension, how like a god lo

If to do, were as easy as to know what were good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men's cottages princes’ palaces. He is a good divine who follows his own instructions: I can easier teach twenty what were good to be done, than be one of the twenty to follow my own - teaching.

Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues we write in water. w THE web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill

together; our virtues would be proud, if our faults whip

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

In corporeal sufferance, feels a pang as great, As when a giant dies.

How far the little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a naughty world.

[ocr errors][ocr errors][ocr errors]

The Poet's eye in a fine frenzy rolling,
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven;
And as imagination bodies forth -
The form of things unknown, the Poet's pen

Turns them to shape, and gives to airy nothing

A local habitation and a name.

HEAven doth with us, as we with torches do,
- - Net

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]
[ocr errors][ocr errors][ocr errors][ocr errors]

So it falls out,
That what we have we prize not to the worth,
Whiles we enjoy it; but being lack'd and lost,
Why then we wreak the value; then we find


[ocr errors][ocr errors][ocr errors][ocr errors]

O MoM E N TA R Y grace of mortal men,
Which we more hunt for t an the grace of God
Who builds his hope in th’ air of men’s fair looks,
Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast, -
Ready with every nod to tumble down
Into the fatal bowels of the deep.

[ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small]
« PreviousContinue »