black
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Till the whole stream, which stopped him, should be gone, That runs, and as it runs, for ever will run on.

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Ever Gone Run Stream Whole Will

Bagwalas

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The world’s a scene of changes.
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Nature waits upon thee still, And thy verdant cup does fill; ‘Tis fill’d wherever thou dost tread, Nature’s self’s thy Ganymede.
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Hope! fortune’s cheating lottery; when for one prize an hundred blanks there be!
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When Harvey’s violent passion she did see, Began to tremble and to flee; Took sanctuary, like Daphne, in a tree
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Much will always wanting be To him who much desires.
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Why dost thou heap up wealth, which thou must quit, Or what is worse, be left by it? Why dost thou load thyself when thou ‘rt to fly, Oh, man! ordain’d to die?
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Nay, in death’s hand, the grape-stone proves As strong as thunder is in Jove’s.
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The spade, the plough-share, and the rake) Arts, in most cruel wise Man’s left to epitomize!
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Gold begets in brethren hate; Gold in families debate; Gold does friendship separate; Gold does civil wars create.
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Why dost thou build up stately rooms on high, Thou who art under ground to lie? Thou sow’st and plantest, but no fruit must see, For death, alas! is reaping thee.
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The present is all the ready money Fate can give.
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Happy insect! what can be In happiness compared to thee? Fed with nourishment divine, The dewy morning’s gentle wine!
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Plenty, as well as Want, can separate friends.
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Build yourself a book-nest to forget the world without.
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Awake, awake, my Lyre!And tell thy silent master’s humble taleIn sounds that may prevail;Sounds that gentle thoughts inspire
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Our yesterday’s to-morrow now is gone, And still a new to-morrow does come on. We by to-morrow draw out all our store, Till the exhausted well can yield no more.
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