text,updated_at,metaphor,created_at,context,theme,reviewed_on,dictionary,comments,provenance,id,work_id
"Right you conclude, reply'd the smiling Boy
Love ruins none, 'tis Men themselves destroy;
And those vile Wretches, which you lately saw,
Transgress'd his Rules, as well as Reason's Law.
They're not Love's Subjects, but the Slaves of Lust,
Nor is their Punishment so great, as just.
For Love and Lust essentially divide,
Like Day and Night, Humility and Pride;
One Darkness hides, t'other does always shine,
This of infernal Make, and that divine.
Reason no gen'rous Passion does oppose;
'Tis Lust, (not Love) and Reason, that are Foes.
She bids you scorn a base inglorious Flame,
Black as the gloomy Shade, from whence it came,
In this, her Precepts should Obedience find,
But yours is not of that ignoble kind.
You Err, in thinking she would disapprove
The brave Pursuit of honourable Love,
And therefore judge what's harmless, an Offence,
Invert her Meaning, and mistake her Sense.
She could not such insipid Counsel give,
As not to love at all, 'tis not to live,
But where bright Virtue, and true Beauty lies,
And that in Delia, charming Delia's Eyes.
Could you, contented, see th' Angelic Maid
In old Alexis' dull Embraces laid?
Or Rough-hewn Tityrus possess those Charms,
Which are in Heaven, the Heaven of Delia's Arms?
Consider, Youth, what Transports you forego,
The most intire Felicity below;
Which is by Fate alone reserv'd for you;
Monarchs have been deny'd, for Monarchs sue.
I own 'tis difficult to gain the Prize,
Or 'twould be cheap, and low in noble Eyes;
But there is one soft Minute, when the Mind
Is left unguarded, waiting to be kind,
Which the wise Lover understanding right,
Steals in like Day upon the Wings of Light.
You urge your Vow, but can those Vows prevail
Whose first Foundation, and whose Reason fail?
You vow'd to leave fair Delia, but you thought
Your Passion was a Crime, your Flame a Fault;
But since your Judgment err'd, it has no Force
To bind at all, but is dissolv'd of Course.
And therefore hesitate no longer here,
But banish all the dull Remains of Fear.
Dare you be happy Youth, but dare, and be;
I'll be your Convoy to the charming she.
What still irresolute? Debating still?
View her, and then forsake her if you will.
",2009-09-14 19:35:53 UTC,"The ""dull Remains of Fear"" may be banished [from the mind?]",2004-06-22 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,"",
,"",11428,4352
"Youth, she reply'd, this place belongs to one,
By whom you'll be, and Thousands are undone.
These pleasant Walks, and all these shady Bow'rs
Are in the Government of dang'rous Pow'rs.
Love's the capricious Master of this Coast,
This fatal Labyrinth where Fools are lost.
I dwell not here amidst these gaudy Things,
Whose short Enjoyment no true Pleasure brings.
But have an Empire of a nobler kind,
My regal Seat's in the celestial Mind;
Where with a God-like, and a Peaceful Hand
I Rule, and make those Happy, I Command.
For while I Govern, all within's at Rest;
No Stormy Passion Revels in the Breast:
But when my Pow'r is Despicable grown,
And Rebel Appetites Usurp my Throne,
The Soul no longer quiet Thoughts enjoys;
But all is Tumult, and Eternal Noise.
Know Youth! I'm Reason, which you've oft despiz'd,
I am that Reason, which you never Priz'd:
And tho' my Arguments Successless prove,
(For Reason seems Impertinence in Love.)
Yet I'll not see my Charge, (for all Mankind
Are to my Guardianship by Heav'n assign'd)
Into the Grasp of any Ruin run,
That I can warn 'em of, and they may shun.
Fly Youth these Guilty Shades, retreat in time
E'er your Mistake's converted to a Crime;
For Ignorance no longer can attone,
When once the Error, and the Fault is known.
You thought perhaps, as Giddy Youth inclines,
Imprudently to value all that Shines,
In these Retirements freely to possess
True Joy, and strong substantial Happiness.
But here Gay Folly keeps her Court, and here
In Crowds her Tributary Fops appear;
Who blindly Lavish of their Golden Days,
Consume them all in her Fallacious Ways.
Pert Love with her, by joint Commission Rules
In this Capacious Realm of Idle Fools;
Who by false Arts, and Popular Deceits,
The Careless, Fond, Unthinking Mortal Cheats.
'Tis easy to descend into the Snare,
By the pernicious Conduct of the Fair;
But Safely to return from this Abode
Requires the Wit, the Prudence of a God;
Tho' you, who have not tasted that Delight,
Which only at a Distance charms your Sight;
May with a little Toil retreive your Heart,
Which lost, is subject to Eternal Smart.
Bright Delia's Beauty, I must needs confess.
Is truly Great, nor would I make it less:
That were to wrong Her, where she Merits most,
But Dragons guard the Fruit, and Rocks the Coast.
And who would run, that's moderately Wise,
A Certain Danger, for a Doubtful Prize?
If you miscarry, you are lost so far,
(For there's no erring Twice in Love, and War)
You'll ne'er recover, but must always Wear
Those Chains you'll find it difficult to bear.
Delia has Charms I own, such Charms would move,
Old Age, and frozen Impotence to Love;
But do not Venture where such Danger lies,
Avoid the Sight of those Victorious Eyes,
Whose pois'nous Rays do to the Soul impart
Delicious Ruin, and a pleasing Smart.
You draw, Insensibly, Destruction near,
And Love the Danger, which you ought to fear.
If the light Pains, you labour under Now
Destroy your Ease, and make your Spirits Bow?
You'll find 'em much more grievous to be born,
When heavier made by an imperious Scorn.
Nor can you hope, she will your Passion hear
With softer Notions, or a kinder Ear,
Than those of other Swains, who always found,
She rather widen'd, than clos'd up the Wound.
But grant she should indulge your Flame, and give
Whate'er you'd ask, nay all you can receive;
The short liv'd Pleasure would so quickly cloy,
Bring such a weak, and such a feeble Joy,
You'd have but small Encouragement to boast
The Tinsel Rapture worth the Pains it cost.
Consider Strephon soberly of Things
What strange Inquietudes Love always brings,
The foolish Fears, vain Hopes, and Jealousies,
Which still attend upon this fond Disease:
How you must cringe and bow, submit and whine,
Call ev'ry Feature, ev'ry Look, Divine;
Commend each Sentence with an humble Smile,
Tho' Nonsense, swear it is a heavenly Stile.
Servilely rail at all she disapproves,
And as ignobly, flatter all she loves.
Renounce your very Sense, and silent sit,
While she puts off Impertinence for Wit.
Like Setting-Dog new whip'd for springing Game,
You must be made by due Correction tame
But if you can endure the nauseous Rule
Of Woman, do, love on, and be a Fool.
You know the Danger, your own Methods use,
The Good, or Evil's in your pow'r to chuse;
But who'd expect a short, and dubious Bliss
On the declining of a Precipice:
Where if he slips, not Fate it self can save
The falling Wretch from an untimely Grave.",2009-09-14 19:35:54 UTC,"Reason has ""an Empire of a nobler kind, / [her] regal Seat's in the celestial Mind""",2004-07-30 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,"","",HDIS,11441,4352
"Youth, she reply'd, this place belongs to one,
By whom you'll be, and Thousands are undone.
These pleasant Walks, and all these shady Bow'rs
Are in the Government of dang'rous Pow'rs.
Love's the capricious Master of this Coast,
This fatal Labyrinth where Fools are lost.
I dwell not here amidst these gaudy Things,
Whose short Enjoyment no true Pleasure brings.
But have an Empire of a nobler kind,
My regal Seat's in the celestial Mind;
Where with a God-like, and a Peaceful Hand
I Rule, and make those Happy, I Command.
For while I Govern, all within's at Rest;
No Stormy Passion Revels in the Breast:
But when my Pow'r is Despicable grown,
And Rebel Appetites Usurp my Throne,
The Soul no longer quiet Thoughts enjoys;
But all is Tumult, and Eternal Noise.
Know Youth! I'm Reason, which you've oft despiz'd,
I am that Reason, which you never Priz'd:
And tho' my Arguments Successless prove,
(For Reason seems Impertinence in Love.)
Yet I'll not see my Charge, (for all Mankind
Are to my Guardianship by Heav'n assign'd)
Into the Grasp of any Ruin run,
That I can warn 'em of, and they may shun.
Fly Youth these Guilty Shades, retreat in time
E'er your Mistake's converted to a Crime;
For Ignorance no longer can attone,
When once the Error, and the Fault is known.
You thought perhaps, as Giddy Youth inclines,
Imprudently to value all that Shines,
In these Retirements freely to possess
True Joy, and strong substantial Happiness.
But here Gay Folly keeps her Court, and here
In Crowds her Tributary Fops appear;
Who blindly Lavish of their Golden Days,
Consume them all in her Fallacious Ways.
Pert Love with her, by joint Commission Rules
In this Capacious Realm of Idle Fools;
Who by false Arts, and Popular Deceits,
The Careless, Fond, Unthinking Mortal Cheats.
'Tis easy to descend into the Snare,
By the pernicious Conduct of the Fair;
But Safely to return from this Abode
Requires the Wit, the Prudence of a God;
Tho' you, who have not tasted that Delight,
Which only at a Distance charms your Sight;
May with a little Toil retreive your Heart,
Which lost, is subject to Eternal Smart.
Bright Delia's Beauty, I must needs confess.
Is truly Great, nor would I make it less:
That were to wrong Her, where she Merits most,
But Dragons guard the Fruit, and Rocks the Coast.
And who would run, that's moderately Wise,
A Certain Danger, for a Doubtful Prize?
If you miscarry, you are lost so far,
(For there's no erring Twice in Love, and War)
You'll ne'er recover, but must always Wear
Those Chains you'll find it difficult to bear.
Delia has Charms I own, such Charms would move,
Old Age, and frozen Impotence to Love;
But do not Venture where such Danger lies,
Avoid the Sight of those Victorious Eyes,
Whose pois'nous Rays do to the Soul impart
Delicious Ruin, and a pleasing Smart.
You draw, Insensibly, Destruction near,
And Love the Danger, which you ought to fear.
If the light Pains, you labour under Now
Destroy your Ease, and make your Spirits Bow?
You'll find 'em much more grievous to be born,
When heavier made by an imperious Scorn.
Nor can you hope, she will your Passion hear
With softer Notions, or a kinder Ear,
Than those of other Swains, who always found,
She rather widen'd, than clos'd up the Wound.
But grant she should indulge your Flame, and give
Whate'er you'd ask, nay all you can receive;
The short liv'd Pleasure would so quickly cloy,
Bring such a weak, and such a feeble Joy,
You'd have but small Encouragement to boast
The Tinsel Rapture worth the Pains it cost.
Consider Strephon soberly of Things
What strange Inquietudes Love always brings,
The foolish Fears, vain Hopes, and Jealousies,
Which still attend upon this fond Disease:
How you must cringe and bow, submit and whine,
Call ev'ry Feature, ev'ry Look, Divine;
Commend each Sentence with an humble Smile,
Tho' Nonsense, swear it is a heavenly Stile.
Servilely rail at all she disapproves,
And as ignobly, flatter all she loves.
Renounce your very Sense, and silent sit,
While she puts off Impertinence for Wit.
Like Setting-Dog new whip'd for springing Game,
You must be made by due Correction tame
But if you can endure the nauseous Rule
Of Woman, do, love on, and be a Fool.
You know the Danger, your own Methods use,
The Good, or Evil's in your pow'r to chuse;
But who'd expect a short, and dubious Bliss
On the declining of a Precipice:
Where if he slips, not Fate it self can save
The falling Wretch from an untimely Grave.",2009-09-14 19:35:54 UTC,"Reason rules with a ""God-like, and a Peaceful Hand""",2004-07-30 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,"","",HDIS,11442,4352
"Youth, she reply'd, this place belongs to one,
By whom you'll be, and Thousands are undone.
These pleasant Walks, and all these shady Bow'rs
Are in the Government of dang'rous Pow'rs.
Love's the capricious Master of this Coast,
This fatal Labyrinth where Fools are lost.
I dwell not here amidst these gaudy Things,
Whose short Enjoyment no true Pleasure brings.
But have an Empire of a nobler kind,
My regal Seat's in the celestial Mind;
Where with a God-like, and a Peaceful Hand
I Rule, and make those Happy, I Command.
For while I Govern, all within's at Rest;
No Stormy Passion Revels in the Breast:
But when my Pow'r is Despicable grown,
And Rebel Appetites Usurp my Throne,
The Soul no longer quiet Thoughts enjoys;
But all is Tumult, and Eternal Noise.
Know Youth! I'm Reason, which you've oft despiz'd,
I am that Reason, which you never Priz'd:
And tho' my Arguments Successless prove,
(For Reason seems Impertinence in Love.)
Yet I'll not see my Charge, (for all Mankind
Are to my Guardianship by Heav'n assign'd)
Into the Grasp of any Ruin run,
That I can warn 'em of, and they may shun.
Fly Youth these Guilty Shades, retreat in time
E'er your Mistake's converted to a Crime;
For Ignorance no longer can attone,
When once the Error, and the Fault is known.
You thought perhaps, as Giddy Youth inclines,
Imprudently to value all that Shines,
In these Retirements freely to possess
True Joy, and strong substantial Happiness.
But here Gay Folly keeps her Court, and here
In Crowds her Tributary Fops appear;
Who blindly Lavish of their Golden Days,
Consume them all in her Fallacious Ways.
Pert Love with her, by joint Commission Rules
In this Capacious Realm of Idle Fools;
Who by false Arts, and Popular Deceits,
The Careless, Fond, Unthinking Mortal Cheats.
'Tis easy to descend into the Snare,
By the pernicious Conduct of the Fair;
But Safely to return from this Abode
Requires the Wit, the Prudence of a God;
Tho' you, who have not tasted that Delight,
Which only at a Distance charms your Sight;
May with a little Toil retreive your Heart,
Which lost, is subject to Eternal Smart.
Bright Delia's Beauty, I must needs confess.
Is truly Great, nor would I make it less:
That were to wrong Her, where she Merits most,
But Dragons guard the Fruit, and Rocks the Coast.
And who would run, that's moderately Wise,
A Certain Danger, for a Doubtful Prize?
If you miscarry, you are lost so far,
(For there's no erring Twice in Love, and War)
You'll ne'er recover, but must always Wear
Those Chains you'll find it difficult to bear.
Delia has Charms I own, such Charms would move,
Old Age, and frozen Impotence to Love;
But do not Venture where such Danger lies,
Avoid the Sight of those Victorious Eyes,
Whose pois'nous Rays do to the Soul impart
Delicious Ruin, and a pleasing Smart.
You draw, Insensibly, Destruction near,
And Love the Danger, which you ought to fear.
If the light Pains, you labour under Now
Destroy your Ease, and make your Spirits Bow?
You'll find 'em much more grievous to be born,
When heavier made by an imperious Scorn.
Nor can you hope, she will your Passion hear
With softer Notions, or a kinder Ear,
Than those of other Swains, who always found,
She rather widen'd, than clos'd up the Wound.
But grant she should indulge your Flame, and give
Whate'er you'd ask, nay all you can receive;
The short liv'd Pleasure would so quickly cloy,
Bring such a weak, and such a feeble Joy,
You'd have but small Encouragement to boast
The Tinsel Rapture worth the Pains it cost.
Consider Strephon soberly of Things
What strange Inquietudes Love always brings,
The foolish Fears, vain Hopes, and Jealousies,
Which still attend upon this fond Disease:
How you must cringe and bow, submit and whine,
Call ev'ry Feature, ev'ry Look, Divine;
Commend each Sentence with an humble Smile,
Tho' Nonsense, swear it is a heavenly Stile.
Servilely rail at all she disapproves,
And as ignobly, flatter all she loves.
Renounce your very Sense, and silent sit,
While she puts off Impertinence for Wit.
Like Setting-Dog new whip'd for springing Game,
You must be made by due Correction tame
But if you can endure the nauseous Rule
Of Woman, do, love on, and be a Fool.
You know the Danger, your own Methods use,
The Good, or Evil's in your pow'r to chuse;
But who'd expect a short, and dubious Bliss
On the declining of a Precipice:
Where if he slips, not Fate it self can save
The falling Wretch from an untimely Grave.",2009-09-14 19:35:54 UTC,"While Reason governs ""all within's at Rest; / No Stormy Passion Revels in the Breast""",2004-07-30 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,"","",HDIS,11443,4352
"Youth, she reply'd, this place belongs to one,
By whom you'll be, and Thousands are undone.
These pleasant Walks, and all these shady Bow'rs
Are in the Government of dang'rous Pow'rs.
Love's the capricious Master of this Coast,
This fatal Labyrinth where Fools are lost.
I dwell not here amidst these gaudy Things,
Whose short Enjoyment no true Pleasure brings.
But have an Empire of a nobler kind,
My regal Seat's in the celestial Mind;
Where with a God-like, and a Peaceful Hand
I Rule, and make those Happy, I Command.
For while I Govern, all within's at Rest;
No Stormy Passion Revels in the Breast:
But when my Pow'r is Despicable grown,
And Rebel Appetites Usurp my Throne,
The Soul no longer quiet Thoughts enjoys;
But all is Tumult, and Eternal Noise.
Know Youth! I'm Reason, which you've oft despiz'd,
I am that Reason, which you never Priz'd:
And tho' my Arguments Successless prove,
(For Reason seems Impertinence in Love.)
Yet I'll not see my Charge, (for all Mankind
Are to my Guardianship by Heav'n assign'd)
Into the Grasp of any Ruin run,
That I can warn 'em of, and they may shun.
Fly Youth these Guilty Shades, retreat in time
E'er your Mistake's converted to a Crime;
For Ignorance no longer can attone,
When once the Error, and the Fault is known.
You thought perhaps, as Giddy Youth inclines,
Imprudently to value all that Shines,
In these Retirements freely to possess
True Joy, and strong substantial Happiness.
But here Gay Folly keeps her Court, and here
In Crowds her Tributary Fops appear;
Who blindly Lavish of their Golden Days,
Consume them all in her Fallacious Ways.
Pert Love with her, by joint Commission Rules
In this Capacious Realm of Idle Fools;
Who by false Arts, and Popular Deceits,
The Careless, Fond, Unthinking Mortal Cheats.
'Tis easy to descend into the Snare,
By the pernicious Conduct of the Fair;
But Safely to return from this Abode
Requires the Wit, the Prudence of a God;
Tho' you, who have not tasted that Delight,
Which only at a Distance charms your Sight;
May with a little Toil retreive your Heart,
Which lost, is subject to Eternal Smart.
Bright Delia's Beauty, I must needs confess.
Is truly Great, nor would I make it less:
That were to wrong Her, where she Merits most,
But Dragons guard the Fruit, and Rocks the Coast.
And who would run, that's moderately Wise,
A Certain Danger, for a Doubtful Prize?
If you miscarry, you are lost so far,
(For there's no erring Twice in Love, and War)
You'll ne'er recover, but must always Wear
Those Chains you'll find it difficult to bear.
Delia has Charms I own, such Charms would move,
Old Age, and frozen Impotence to Love;
But do not Venture where such Danger lies,
Avoid the Sight of those Victorious Eyes,
Whose pois'nous Rays do to the Soul impart
Delicious Ruin, and a pleasing Smart.
You draw, Insensibly, Destruction near,
And Love the Danger, which you ought to fear.
If the light Pains, you labour under Now
Destroy your Ease, and make your Spirits Bow?
You'll find 'em much more grievous to be born,
When heavier made by an imperious Scorn.
Nor can you hope, she will your Passion hear
With softer Notions, or a kinder Ear,
Than those of other Swains, who always found,
She rather widen'd, than clos'd up the Wound.
But grant she should indulge your Flame, and give
Whate'er you'd ask, nay all you can receive;
The short liv'd Pleasure would so quickly cloy,
Bring such a weak, and such a feeble Joy,
You'd have but small Encouragement to boast
The Tinsel Rapture worth the Pains it cost.
Consider Strephon soberly of Things
What strange Inquietudes Love always brings,
The foolish Fears, vain Hopes, and Jealousies,
Which still attend upon this fond Disease:
How you must cringe and bow, submit and whine,
Call ev'ry Feature, ev'ry Look, Divine;
Commend each Sentence with an humble Smile,
Tho' Nonsense, swear it is a heavenly Stile.
Servilely rail at all she disapproves,
And as ignobly, flatter all she loves.
Renounce your very Sense, and silent sit,
While she puts off Impertinence for Wit.
Like Setting-Dog new whip'd for springing Game,
You must be made by due Correction tame
But if you can endure the nauseous Rule
Of Woman, do, love on, and be a Fool.
You know the Danger, your own Methods use,
The Good, or Evil's in your pow'r to chuse;
But who'd expect a short, and dubious Bliss
On the declining of a Precipice:
Where if he slips, not Fate it self can save
The falling Wretch from an untimely Grave.",2013-06-04 21:01:27 UTC,"When Reason's ""Pow'r is Despicable grown, / And Rebel Appetites Usurp my Throne, / The Soul no longer quiet Thoughts enjoys; / But all is Tumult, and Eternal Noise.""",2004-07-30 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,Throne,"",HDIS (Poetry),11444,4352
"If, as the wisest of the Wise, have err'd,
I go astray, and am condemn'd unheard;
My Faults you too severely reprehend,
More like a rigid Censor, than a Friend.
Love is the Monarch Passion of the Mind,
Knows no Superior, by no Laws confin'd;
But triumphs still, impatient of Controul,
O'er all the proud Endowments of the Soul.
(p. 38, ll. 19-26; cf. p. 52 in 1702 ed.)",2014-06-07 01:47:57 UTC,"""Love is the Monarch Passion of the Mind, / Knows no Superior, by no Laws confin'd; / But triumphs still, impatient of Controul, / O'er all the proud Endowments of the Soul.""",2005-04-20 00:00:00 UTC,"",Ruling Passion,2014-06-06,"",•I've included twice: Monarch and Lawless,Searching in HDIS (Poetry); confirmed in ECCO.,11448,4356
"Sometimes I please my self, and think you are
Too good, to make me wretched by Despair.
That Tenderness, which in your Soul is plac'd,
Will move you to Compassion sure at last.
But when I come to take a serious View
Of my own Merits, I despond of you,
For what can Delia, beauteous Delia see,
To raise in her the least Esteem of me?
I've nought that can encourage my Address,
My Fortune's little; and my Worth is less.
But if a Love of the sublimest Kind
Can make Impressions on a gen'rous Mind:
If all has real Value, that's Divine,
There cannot be a nobler Flame than mine.",2009-09-14 19:35:54 UTC,"""But if a Love of the sublimest Kind / Can make Impressions on a gen'rous Mind:""",2005-05-16 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,Impression,"","Searching ""mind"" and ""impression"" in HDIS (Poetry)",11450,4357
"Bold is the Wretch, and blasphemous the Man,
Who, Finite, will attempt to Scan
The Works of Him that's infinitely Wise,
And those he cannot Comprehend, denies;
As if a space Immense were measurable by a Span.
Thus the proud Sceptick will not own
That Providence the World directs,
Or its Affair inspects,
But leaves it to it self alone.
How does it with Almighty Grandeur suit,
To be concern'd with our Impertinence;
Or interpose his Power for the Defence
Of a poor Mortal, or a senseless Brute?
Villains could never so successful prove,
And unmolested in those Pleasures live,
Which Honour, Ease, and Affluence give:
While such as Heaven adore, and Virtue love,
And most the care of Providence deserve,
Oppress'd with Pain, and Ignominy starve.
What Reason can the wisest show,
Why Murder does unpunish'd go?
If the most High, that's Just and Good,
Intends and governs all below;
And yet regards not the loud Cries of guiltless Blood.
But shall we things unsearchable deny,
Because our Reason cannot tell us why
They are allow'd or acted by the Deity?
'Tis equally above the reach of Thought
To comprehend, how Matter should be brought
From Nothing, as Existent be
From all Eternity.
And yet that Matter is, we feel and see,
Nor is it easier to define
What Ligatures the Soul and Body join:
Or how the Mem'ry does th' Impression take
Of Things, and to the Mind restores 'em back.",2009-09-14 19:35:54 UTC,"""Or how the Mem'ry does th' Impression take / Of Things, and to the Mind restores 'em back.""",2005-05-16 00:00:00 UTC,"Providence, V.","",,Impression,"","Searching ""mind"" and ""impression"" in HDIS (Poetry); found again ""soul""",11451,4358
"Bold is the Wretch, and blasphemous the Man,
Who, Finite, will attempt to Scan
The Works of Him that's infinitely Wise,
And those he cannot Comprehend, denies;
As if a space Immense were measurable by a Span.
Thus the proud Sceptick will not own
That Providence the World directs,
Or its Affair inspects,
But leaves it to it self alone.
How does it with Almighty Grandeur suit,
To be concern'd with our Impertinence;
Or interpose his Power for the Defence
Of a poor Mortal, or a senseless Brute?
Villains could never so successful prove,
And unmolested in those Pleasures live,
Which Honour, Ease, and Affluence give:
While such as Heaven adore, and Virtue love,
And most the care of Providence deserve,
Oppress'd with Pain, and Ignominy starve.
What Reason can the wisest show,
Why Murder does unpunish'd go?
If the most High, that's Just and Good,
Intends and governs all below;
And yet regards not the loud Cries of guiltless Blood.
But shall we things unsearchable deny,
Because our Reason cannot tell us why
They are allow'd or acted by the Deity?
'Tis equally above the reach of Thought
To comprehend, how Matter should be brought
From Nothing, as Existent be
From all Eternity.
And yet that Matter is, we feel and see,
Nor is it easier to define
What Ligatures the Soul and Body join:
Or how the Mem'ry does th' Impression take
Of Things, and to the Mind restores 'em back.",2009-09-14 19:35:54 UTC,"""Nor is it easier to define / What Ligatures the Soul and Body join:""",2005-05-16 00:00:00 UTC,"Providence, V.",Dualism,,"","",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),11452,4358
"The Vices common to her Sex, can find
No room, e'en in the Suburbs of her Mind.
Concluding wisely, she's in danger still,
From the meer Neighbourhood of industrious Ill;
Therefore at distance keep the subtil Foe,
Whose near approach would formidable grow.
While the unwary Virgin is undone,
And meets the Misery which she ought to shun.
(pp. 39-40, ll. 70-77; cf. pp. 54-5 in 1702 ed.)",2014-06-07 01:31:26 UTC,"""The Vices common to her Sex, can find / No room, e'en in the Suburbs of her Mind.""",2005-08-29 00:00:00 UTC,"","",2007-04-26,Inhabitants,•I've included twice: Suburbs and Inhabitants,Searching in HDIS (Poetry); confirmed in ECCO.,11460,4356