Visions of glory, spare my aching sight! Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul!
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.
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.
Chill penury repress'd their noble rage, And froze the genial current of the soul.
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