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Pleasure is labour too, and tires as much.

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
Tire
Labour
Labor
Pleasure
Much
Tires

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They best can judge a poet's worth, Who oft themselves have known The pangs of a poetic birth By labours of their own.
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The bird that flutters least is longest on the wing.
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But conversation, choose what theme we may, And chiefly when religion leads the way, Should flow, like waters after summer show'rs, Not as if raised by mere mechanic powers.
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Acquaint thyself with God, if thou would'st taste His works. Admitted once to his embrace, Thou shalt perceive that thou was blind before: Thine eye shall be instructed and thine heart Made pure shall relish with divine delight Till then unfelt, what hands divine have wrought.
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Events of all sorts creep or fly exactly as God pleases.
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Oh, popular applause! what heart of man Is proof against thy sweet seducing charms? The wisest and the best feel urgent need Of all their caution in thy gentlest gales But swell'd into a gust--who then, alas! With all his canvas set, and inexpert, And therefore, heedless, can withstand thy power?
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Men deal with life as children with their play, Who first misuse, then cast their toys away.
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Thieves at home must hang but he that puts Into his overgorged and bloated purse The wealth of Indian provinces, escapes.
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A lawyer's dealings should be just and fair Honesty shines with great advantage there.
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Ten thousand casks, Forever dribbling out their base contents, Touch'd by the Midas finger of the state, Bleed gold for ministers to sport away. Drink, and be mad then 'tis your country bids!
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Sin let loose speaks punishment at hand.
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I would not have a slave to till my ground, To carry me, to fan me while I sleep, And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth That sinews bought and sold have ever earn'd.
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O, popular applause! what heart of man is proof against thy sweet, seducing charms?
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Knowledge is proud that it knows so much wisdom is humble that it knows no more.
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Tis pleasant, through the loopholes of retreat, To peep at such a world to see the stir Of the Great Babel, and not feel the crowd.
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Man on the dubious waves of error toss'd.
William Cowper
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But truths on which depends our main concern, That 'tis our shame and misery not to learn, Shine by the side of every path we tread With such a lustre he that runs may read.
William Cowper
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There is a mixture of evil in everything we do indulgence encourages us to encroach, while we Crabbe exercise the rights of children, we become childish.
William Cowper
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Just knows, and knows no more, her Bible true,- A truth the brilliant Frenchman never knew.
William Cowper
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Remorse, the fatal egg that pleasure laid.
William Cowper