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William Blake

Does the Eagle know what is in the pit?

Or wilt thou go ask the Mole:

Can Wisdom be put in a silver rod?

Or Love in a golden bowl?

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noun

One who, or that which, accelerates.

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An eminent attorney.

42 lines
Oliver Goldsmith·1728–1774
ere lies the good Dean, reunited to earth,Who mix'd reason with pleasure, and wisdom with mirth:If he had any faults, he has left us in doubt;At least, in six weeks I could not find 'em out;Yet some have declared, and it can't be denied 'em,That Sly-boots was cursedly cunning to hide 'em.Here lies our good Edmund, whose genius was such,We scarcely can praise it or blame it too much;Who, born for the universe, narrow'd his mind,And to party gave up what was meant for mankind.Though fraught with all learning, yet straining his throatTo persuade Tommy Townshend[15] to lend him a vote;Who, too deep for his hearers, still went on refining,And thought of convincing, while they thought of dining:Though equal to all things, for all things unfit,Too nice for a statesman, too proud for a wit;For a patriot, too cool; for a drudge, disobedient;And too fond of the right to pursue the expedient.In short, 'twas his fate, unemploy'd or in place, sir,To eat mutton cold, and cut blocks with a razor.Here lies honest William, whose heart was a mint,While the owner ne'er knew half the good that was in't;The pupil of impulse, it forced him along,His conduct still right, with his argument wrong;Still aiming at honour, yet fearing to roam,—The coachman was tipsy, the chariot drove home:Would you ask for his merits? alas! he had none:What was good was spontaneous, his faults were his own.Here lies honest Richard, whose fate I must sigh at;Alas! that such frolic should now be so quiet!What spirits were his! what wit and what whim!Now breaking a jest, and now breaking a limb![16]Now wrangling and grumbling, to keep up the ball!Now teasing and vexing, yet laughing at all!In short, so provoking a devil was Dick,That we wish'd him full ten times a day at Old Nick;But missing his mirth and agreeable vein,As often we wish'd to have Dick back again.Here Cumberland lies, having acted his parts,The Terence of England, the mender of hearts;A flattering painter, who made it his careTo draw men as they ought to be, not as they are.