Emotions and Feelings

For I bless God in the libraries of the learned and for all the booksellers in the world.

And now the matchless deed’s achiev’d, Determin’d, dar’d, and done.

Where ask is have, where seek is find, Where knock is open wide.

Too poor for a bribe, and too proud to importune, He had not the method of making a fortune.

This piercing cold I feel: my dead wife’s comb, in our bedroom under my heel… 1

Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows, While proudly riding o’er the azure realm In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes; Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm; Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind’s sway, That, hush’d in grim repose, expects his evening prey.

Ruin seize thee, ruthless King! Confusion on thy banners wait, Though fann’d by Conquest’s crimson wing They mock the air with idle state.

O’er her warm cheek and rising bosom move The bloom of young Desire and purple light of Love.

The meanest floweret of the vale, The simplest note that swells the gale, The common sun, the air, the skies, To him are opening paradise.

Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere, Heav’n did a recompense as largely send: He gave to mis’ry all he had, a tear, He gain’d from Heav’n (’twas all he wish’d) a friend.

Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere, Heav’n did a recompense as largely send: He gave to mis’ry all he had, a tear, He gain’d from Heav’n (’twas all he wish’d) a friend.

Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth A youth to fortune and to fame unknown. Fair Science frown’d not on his humble birth, And Melancholy mark’d him for her own.

For who to dumb forgetfulness a prey, This pleasing anxious being e’er resign’d, Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, Nor cast one longing ling’ring look behind?

Far from the madding crowd’s ignoble strife, Their sober wishes never learn’d to stray; Along the cool sequester’d vale of life They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.

Some village Hampden, that with dauntless breast The little tyrant of his fields withstood; Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, Some Cromwell guiltless of his country’s blood.

But knowledge to their eyes her ample page Rich with the spoils of time did ne’er unroll; Chill penury repress’d their noble rage, And froze the genial current of the soul.

What female heart can gold despise? What cat’s averse to fish?

Alas, regardless of their doom, The little victims play! No sense have they of ills to come, Nor care beyond today.

To each his suff’rings: all are men, Condemn’d alike to groan, The tender for another’s pain, Th’ unfeeling for his own. Yet ah! why should they know their fate, Since sorrow never comes too late, And happiness too swiftly flies? Thought would destroy their paradise. No more; where ignorance is bliss, ’Tis folly to be wise.

To each his suff’rings: all are men, Condemn’d alike to groan, The tender for another’s pain, Th’ unfeeling for his own. Yet ah! why should they know their fate, Since sorrow never comes too late, And happiness too swiftly flies? Thought would destroy their paradise. No more; where ignorance is bliss, ’Tis folly to be wise.

Still as they run they look behind, They hear a voice in every wind, And snatch a fearful joy.

Still as they run they look behind, They hear a voice in every wind, And snatch a fearful joy.

Officious, innocent, sincere, Of every friendless name the friend.

Officious, innocent, sincere, Of every friendless name the friend.