Quote

Unless a love of virtue light the flame, Satire is, more than those he brands, to blame He hides behind a magisterial air He own offences, and strips others' bare.

William Cowper

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William Cowper
Age: 68 †
Born: 1731
Born: November 26
Died: 1800
Died: April 25
Hymnwriter
Poet
Poet Lawyer
Translator
Writer
Berkhamsted
Hertfordshire
Behind
Bare
Virtue
Flame
Others
Flames
Magisterial
Light
Brands
Offences
Love
Blame
Strips
Air
Offence
Behinds
Hides
Unless
Satire

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Laugh at all you trembled at before.
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Our love is principle, and has its root In reason, is judicious, manly, free.
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Heaven speed the canvas, gallantly unfurl'd, To furnish and accommodate a world, To give the Pole the produce of the sun, And knit the unsocial climates into one.
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Remorse begets reform.
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Built God a church and laughed His word to scorn.
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If my resolution to be a great man was half so strong as it is to despise the shame of being a little one.
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God moves in mysterious ways His wonders to performs
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Lights of the world, and stars of human race.
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The still small voice is wanted.
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All we behold is miracle.
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Grief is itself a medicine.
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Manner is all in all, whate'er is writ,The substitute for genius, sense, and wit.
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Existence is a strange bargain. Life owes us little we owe it everything. The only true happiness comes from squandering ourselves for a purpose.
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But war's a game, which, were their subjects wise, Kings should not play at. Nations would do well To extort their truncheons from the puny hands Of heroes, whose infirm and baby minds Are gratified with mischief, and who spoil, Because men suffer it, their toy the world.
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No, Freedom has a thousand charms to show That slaves, howe'er contented, never know.
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Solitude, seeming a sanctuary, proves a grave a sepulchre in which the living lie, where all good qualities grow sick and die
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Absence from whom we love is worse than death, and frustrates hope severer than despair.
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The dogs did bark, the children screamed, Up flew the windows all And every soul bawled out, Well done! As loud as he could bawl.
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Ye fearful saints fresh courage take, The clouds you so much dread Are big with mercy and shall break, With blessings on your head
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Ye therefore who love mercy, teach your sons to love it, too.
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