Memoirs of the life of dr. [E.] Darwin, chiefly during his residence at Lichfield

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303 psl. - Know then thyself, presume not God to scan, The proper study of mankind is man. Placed on this isthmus of a middle state, A being darkly wise, and rudely great: With too much knowledge for the sceptic side, With too much weakness for the Stoic's pride, He hangs between; in doubt to act, or rest; In doubt to deem himself a God, or beast; In doubt his mind or body to prefer; Born but to die, and reas'ning but to err...
303 psl. - Julius bleed for justice' sake? What villain touch'd his body, that did stab, And not for justice? What, shall one of us, That struck the foremost man of all this world, But for supporting robbers; shall we now Contaminate our fingers with base bribes? And sell the mighty space of our large...
426 psl. - There's no prerogative in human hours. In human hearts what bolder thought can rise Than man's presumption on to-morrow's dawn? Where is to-morrow? In another world. For numbers this is certain; the reverse Is sure to none; and yet on this perhaps...
340 psl. - Soon hears his listening son the welcome sounds, With open arms and sparkling eyes he bounds : —
303 psl. - And not for justice ? What, shall one of us, That struck the foremost man of all this world But for supporting robbers, shall we now Contaminate our fingers with base bribes, And sell the mighty space of our large honours For so much trash as may be grasped thus ? I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon, Than such a Roman.
347 psl. - No radiant pearl, which crefted Fortune wears, No gem, that twinkling hangs from Beauty's ears, Not the bright ftars, which night's blue arch adorn, Nor rifing funs, that gild the vernal morn, Shine with fuch luftre as the tear, that breaks, for other's woe, down Virtue's manly cheeks.
207 psl. - The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven. And as imagination bodies forth The form of things unknown, the poet's pen Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing A local habitation and a name.
304 psl. - Sleep no more! Macbeth doth murder sleep — the innocent sleep, Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleave* of care, The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath, Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, Chief nourisher in life's feast Lady.
125 psl. - SPEECH OF A WATER NYMPH If the meek flower of bashful dye, Attract not thy incurious eye ; If the soft, murmuring rill to rest Encharm not thy tumultuous breast, Go, where Ambition lures the vain, Or Avarice barters peace for gain I "Dr.
91 psl. - Pull one of them to pieces for its materials ; place another before these canary-birds, as * pattern, and see if they will make the slightest effort to imitate their model ! No, the result of. their labour will, upon instinctive* hereditary impulse, be exactly the slovenly little mansion of their race ; the same with that which their parents built before themselves...

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