But knowledge to their eyes her ample page Rich with the spoils of time did ne'er unroll; Chill Penury repressed their noble rage, And froze the genial current of the soul.
Chill penury repress'd their noble rage, And froze the genial current of the soul.
Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere, Heaven did a recompense as largely send: He gave to mis'ry (all he had) a tear, He gained from Heav'n ('t was all he wish'd) a friend.
Visions of glory, spare my aching sight! Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul!
On some fond breast the parting soul relies,/ Some pious drops the closing eye requires; / E'en from the tomb the voice of Nature cries, / E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires.