Creation sleeps! 'T is as the general pulse Of life stood still, and Nature made a pause,- An awful pause! prophetic of her end.
Born Originals, how comes it to pass that we die Copies?
Men are but men; we did not make ourselves.
The man that blushes is not quite a brute.
Life's cares are comforts; such by Heav'n design'd; He that hath none must make them, or be wretched.
Be wise today; 'tis madness to defer. Next day the fatal precedent will plead; thus on, til wisdom is pushed our of life.