This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1819 edition. Excerpt: ... see, I die. 'Know my Creator? climb his bless'd abode By painful speculation, pierce the vail, Dive in his nature, read his attributes, And gaze in admiration--on a foe, Obtruding life, with-holding happiness! From the full rivers that surround his throne, Not letting fall one drop of joy on man; Man ...
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This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1819 edition. Excerpt: ... see, I die. 'Know my Creator? climb his bless'd abode By painful speculation, pierce the vail, Dive in his nature, read his attributes, And gaze in admiration--on a foe, Obtruding life, with-holding happiness! From the full rivers that surround his throne, Not letting fall one drop of joy on man; Man gasping for one drop, that he might cease To curse his birth, nor envy reptiles more; Ye sable clouds! ye darkest shades of night! Hide him, for ever hide him, from my thought, Once all my comfort, source and soul of joy! me. Now leagued with furies, and with thee, against 'Know his achievements? study his renown? Contemplate this Amazing Universe, Dropt from his hand, with miracles replete! For what? mid miracles of nobler name To find one miracle of misery? To find the being, which alone can know And praise his works, a blemish on his praise! Through Nature's ample range, in thought, to stroll, And start at man, the single mourner there, Breathing high hope! chain'd down to pangs and death? 'Kntowing is suffering: and shall Virtue share The sigh of Knowledge?--Virtue shares the sigh. By straining up the steep of excellent, By battles fought, and from temptation won, Lorenzo. What gains she but the pang of seeing worth, Angelic worth, soon shuffled in the dark With every vice, and swept to brutal dust? Merit is madness, virtue is a crime, A crime to reason, if it costs us pain Unpaid: what pain, amidst a thousand more, To think the most abandon'd, after days Of triumph o'er their betters, find in death As soft a pillow, nor make fouler clay! Duty! religion!--these, our duty done, Imply reward, Religion is mistake. Duty!--there's none, but to repel the cheat. Ye Cheats! away: ye daughters of my pride, Who feign yourselves the favourites of...
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