Not all that tempts your wandering eyes
And heedless hearts, is lawful prize;
Nor all that glisters gold.
The applause of list'ning senates to command, The threats of pain and ruin to despise, To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land, And read their history in a nation's eyes.
Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes,
Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart.
The time will come, when thou shalt lift thine eyes To watch a long-drawn battle in the skies. While aged peasants, too amazed for words, Stare at the flying fleets of wondrous birds.
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.
When love could teach a monarch to be wise, And gospel-light first dawn'd from Bullen's eyes.
He pass'd the flaming bounds of place and time: The living throne, the sapphire blaze, Where angels tremble while they gaze, He saw; but blasted with excess of light, Closed his eyes in endless night.
If the best man's faults were written on his forehead, he would draw his hat over his eyes.
To contemplation's sober eye,
Such is the race of man;
And they that creep, and they that fly,
Shall end where they began,
Alike the busy and the gay,
But flutter through life's little day.
To Contemplation's sober eye. / Such is the race of Man.
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