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Greece, sound, thy Homer's, Rome thy Virgil's name, But England's Milton equals both in fame.
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
Fame
Poet
Virgil
Name
Homer
Names
Milton
Sound
Equals
Greece
Rome
England
More quotes by William Cowper
Stamps God's own name upon a lie just made, To turn a penny in the way of trade.
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Mercy to him that shows it, is the rule.
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I pity them greatly, but I must be mum, for how could we do without sugar and rum?
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The solemn fop significant and budge A fool with judges, amongst fools a judge
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Dejection of spirits, which may have prevented many a man from becoming an author, made me one. I find constant employment necessary, and therefore take care to be constantly employed. . . . When I can find no other occupation, I think and when I think, I am very apt to do it in rhyme.
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Go, mark the matchless working of the power That shuts within the seed the future flower Bids these in elegance of form excel. In color these, and those delight the smell Sends nature forth, the daughter of the skies, To dance on earth, and charm all human eyes.
William Cowper
Remorse, the fatal egg by pleasure laid, In every bosom where her nest is made, Hatched by the beams of truth, denies him rest, And proves a raging scorpion in his breast.
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They fix attention, heedless of your pain, With oaths like rivets forced into the brain And e'en when sober truth prevails throughout, They swear it, till affirmance breeds a doubt.
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And, of all lies (be that one poet's boast) / The lie that flatters I abhor the most.
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And hast thou sworn on every slight pretence, Till perjuries are common as bad pence, While thousands, careless of the damning sin, Kiss the book's outside, who ne'er look'd within?
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The still small voice is wanted.
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The parson knows enough who knows a Duke.
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The only amarantine flower on earth Is virtue.
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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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Where thou art gone, adieus and farewells are a sound unknown.
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How readily we wish time spent revoked, that we might try the ground again where once--through inexperience, as we now perceive--we missed that happiness we might have found!
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Some to the fascination of a name, Surrender judgment hoodwinked.
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The path of sorrow, and that path alone, leads to the land where sorrow is unknown.
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He that attends to his interior self, That has a heart, and keeps it has a mind That hungers, and supplies it and who seeks A social, not a dissipated life, Has business.
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He is the freeman whom the truth makes free, And all are slaves besides.
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