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O great man-eater!

Whose every day is carnival, not sated yet!
Unheard of epicure! without a fellow !
The veriest gluttons do not always cram ;
Some intervals of abstinence are sought
To edge the appetite; thou seekest none.

Blair's Grave.

Friend to the wretch whom every friend forsakes,
I woo thee, Death!

Porteus's Death.

All flesh is grass, and all its glory fades
Like the fair flow'r dishevell'd in the wind;
Riches have wings, and grandeur is a dream;
The man we celebrate must find a tomb,
And we that worship him, ignoble graves.

Cowper's Task, b. 3.

Heav'n! what enormous strength does death possess !
How muscular the giant's arm must be,

To grasp that strong-boned horse, and spite of all
His furious efforts, fix him to the earth!

Yet, hold, he rises!-no-the struggle's vain,
His strength avails him not. Beneath the gripe
Of the remorseless monster, stretch'd at length
He lies, with neck extended, head hard press'd
Upon the
very turf where late he fed.

Blacket's Dying Horse.

Death! to the happy thou art terrible,

But how the wretched love to think of thee

O thou true comforter, the friend of all

Who have no friend beside. Southey's Joan of Arc.

DEFIANCE.

Torture thou may'st, but thou shalt ne'er despise me : The blood will follow, where the knife is driven;

The flesh will quiver, where the pincers tear;
And sighs and cries by nature grow on pain:
But these are foreign to the soul: Not mine
The groans that issue, or the tears that fall;
They disobey me; on the rack I scorn thee.

Young's Revenge, a. 5.

Thou think'st I fear thee, cursed reptile; And hast a pleasure in the damned thought. Though my heart's blood should curdle at thy sight, I'll stay and face thee still.

Joann Baillie's De Montford, a. 1, s. 2.

Let them wield the thunder,

Fell is their dint, who 're mailed in despair.

Maturin's Bertram, a. 2, s. 3.

On this spot I stand

The champion of despair-this arm my brand—
This breast my panoply-and for my gage-
(Oh thou hast reft from me all knightly pledge,)
Take these black hairs torn from a head that hates thee,
Deep be their dye, before that pledge is ransomed-
In thine heart's blood or mine. Ibid, a. 4, s. 1.

Henceforth his might we know, and know our own,
So as not either to provoke, or dread

New war, provok'd.

Milton's Paradise Lost, b. 1.

He ended frowning, and his look denounc'd
Desp❜rate revenge, and battle dangerous
To less than Gods.

Ibid, b. 2.

Whence and what art thou, execrable shape,
That dar'st, though grim and terrible, advance
Thy miscreated front athwart my way

To yonder gates? through them I mean to pass,
That be assured, without leave ask'd of thee:
Retire, or taste thy folly, and learn by proof,
Hell-born, not to contend with spirits of Heav'n. Ibid.

Reckon'st thou thyself with spirits of heav'n,
Hell-doom'd, and breath'st defiance here and scorn
Where I reign king, and to enrage thee more,
Thy king and lord? Milton's Paradise Lost, b. 2.

If I must contend, said he,

Best with the best, the sender not the sent,
Or all at once; more glory will be won,
Or less be lost.

Ibid, b. 4.

Then when I am thy captive talk of chains,
Proud limitary cherub, but ere then
Far heavier load thyself expect to feel
From my prevailing arm, though heav'n's king
Ride on thy wings, and thou with thy compeers,
Us'd to the yoke, draw'st his triumphant wheels
In progress through the road of heav'n star-pav'd.

Our puissance is our own; our own right hand
Shall teach us highest deeds, by proof to try
Who is our equal: then thou shalt behold
Whether by supplication we intend

Address, and to begirt th' Almighty throne
Beseeching or besieging.

Ibid.

Ibid, b. 5.

DEFORMITY.

Nature herself started back when thou wert born,

And cry'd, the work's not mine.

The midwife stood aghast; and when she saw
Thy mountain-back, and thy distorted legs,

Thy face itself

Half-minted with the royal stamp of man,

And half o'ercome with beast, she doubted long
Whose right in thee were more;

And knew not if to burn thee in the flames
Were not the holier work.

Lee's Edipus.

Am I to blame, if nature threw my body
In so perverse a mould? Yet when she cast
Her envious hand upon my supple joints,
Unable to resist, and rumpl'd them

On heaps in their dark lodging; to revenge
Her bungl'd work, she stamp'd my mind more fair,
And as from chaos, huddl'd and deform'd,
The gods struck fire, and lighted up the lamps
That beautify the sky; so she inform'd

This ill-shap'd body with a daring soul,

And making less than man, she made me more.

Lee's Edipus.

DEITY.

Nature

Never did bring forth a man without a man ;
Nor could the first man, being but
The passive subject, not the active mover,
Be the maker of himself; so, of necessity,
There must be a power superior to nature.

Tourneur's Atheist's Tragedy.

And chiefly thou, O Spirit, that dost prefer
Before all temples, the upright heart and pure
Instruct me, for thou know'st.

Milton's Paradise Lost, b. 1.

Beyond compare the Son of God was seen
Most glorious; in him all his father shone
Substantially exprest; and in his face
Divine compassion visibly appear'd,
Love without end, and without measure grace.

For wonderful indeed are all his works,
Pleasant to know, and worthiest to be all
Had in remembrance always with delight;
But what created mind can comprehend

Ibid, n. 3.

Their number, or the wisdom infinite

That brought them forth, but hid their causes deep. Milton's Paradise Lost, b. 3.

These are thy glorious works, Parent of good,
Almighty, thine this universal frame,

Thus wond'rous fair; thyself how wond'rous then!
Unspeakable, who sit'st above these heavens
To us invisible, or dimly seen

In these thy lowest works; yet these declare

Thy goodness beyond thought, and pow'r divine.

Ibid, b. 5.

Hail, source of being! Universal soul
Of heaven and earth! Essential Presence, hail !
To thee I bend the knee; to thee my thoughts
Continual climb; who, with a master hand,
Hast the great whole into perfection touch'd.

Thomson's Seasons-Spring.

And yet was every fault'ring tongue of man,
Almighty Father! silent in thy praise!
Thy works themselves would raise a general voice,
Even in the depth of solitary woods
By human foot untrod, proclaim thy power,
And to the quire celestial Thee resound,
The eternal cause, support, and end of all!

Ibid-Summer.

Let no presuming impious railer tax
Creative Wisdom, as if aught was form'd
In vain, or not for admirable ends.
Shall little haughty ignorance pronounce
His works unwise, of which the smallest part
Exceeds the narrow vision of his mind?

With what an awful world-revolving power
Were first the unwieldy planets launch'd along
The illimitable void! Thus to remain,

E

Ibid.

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