Quote

I pity bashful men, who feel the pain Of fancied scorn and undeserved disdain, And bear the marks upon a blushing face, OF needless shame, and self-impos'd disgrace.

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
Face
Marks
Faces
Disgrace
Upon
Scorn
Undeserved
Pain
Pity
Fancied
Self
Bear
Bashful
Feel
Shame
Needless
Feels
Mark
Blushing
Men
Bears
Disdain

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Misses! the tale that I relate This lesson seems to carry-- Choose not alone a proper mate, But proper time to marry.
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'Tis liberty alone that gives the flower Of fleeting life its lustre and perfume And we are weeds without it.
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He that has seen both sides of fifty has lived to little purpose if he has no other views of the world than he had when he was much younger.
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The proud are ever most provoked by pride.
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No man can be a patriot on an empty stomach.
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O solitude, where are the charms That sages have seen in thy face? Better dwell in the midst of alarms, Than reign in this horrible place.
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No, Freedom has a thousand charms to show That slaves, howe'er contented, never know.
William Cowper
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How various his employments whom the world Calls idle and who justly in return Esteems that busy world an idler too!
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The earth was made so various, that the mind Of desultory man, studious of change, And pleased with novelty, might be indulged.
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The man that hails you Tom or Jack, and proves by thumps upon your back how he esteems your merit, is such a friend, that one had need be very much his friend indeed to pardon or to bear it.
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I have a kitten,the drollest of all creatures that ever wore a cat's skin.
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Where thou art gone, adieus and farewells are a sound unknown.
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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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The Frenchman, easy, debonair, and brisk, Give him his lass, his fiddle, and his frisk, Is always happy, reign whoever may, And laughs the sense of mis'ry far away.
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He finds his fellow guilty of a skin Not color'd like his own, and having pow'r T' enforce the wrong, for such a worthy cause Dooms and devotes him as his lawful prey.
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This fond attachment to the well-known place Whence first we started into life's long race, Maintains its hold with such unfailing sway, We feel it e'en in age, and at our latest day.
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Nature is a good name for an effect whose cause is God.
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Skins may differ, but affection Dwells in white and black the same.
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When one that holds communion with the skies Has fill'd his urn where these pure waters rise, And once more mingles with us meaner things, 'Tis e'en as if an angel shook his wings.
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The fall of waters and the song of birds, And hills that echo to the distant berds, Are luxuries excelling all the glare The world can boast, and her chief favorites share.
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