The Dying Christian to His Soul
Vital spark of heav’nly flame! Quit, O quit this mortal frame: Trembling, hoping, ling’ring, flying, O the pain, the bliss of dying! Cease, fond Nature, cease thy strife, And let me languish into life.
Argus
When wise Ulysses, from his native coast Long kept by wars, and long by tempests toss’d, Arrived at last, poor, old, disguised, alone, To all his friends, and ev’n his Queen unknown, Changed as