As if Misfortune made the Throne her Seat, And none could be unhappy but the Great. |
As if Misfortune made the throne her seat,/ And none could be unhappy but the great. |
Death is the privilege of human nature, And life without it were not worth our taking. |
From every blush that kindles in thy cheeks, Ten thousand little loves and graces spring To revel in the roses. |
Guilt is the source of sorrow, 'tis the fiend, Th' avenging fiend, that follows us behind, With whips and stings |
Guilt is the source of sorrow, 'tis the fiend, Th' avenging fiend, that follows us behind, With whips and stings |
Is she not more than painting can express,/ Or youthful poets fancy when they love? |
Is this that haughty, gallant, gay Lothario? |
The guilty is he who meditates a crime; the punishment is his who lays the plot |
When our old Pleasures die, Some new One still is nigh; Oh! fair Variety! |
Your bounty is beyond my speaking; But though my mouth be dumb, my heart shall thank you. |