John Armstrong

Virtue, the strength and beauty of the soul,
Is the best gift of Heaven: a happiness
That read more

Virtue, the strength and beauty of the soul,
Is the best gift of Heaven: a happiness
That even above the smiles and frowns of fate
Exalts great Nature's favourites: a wealth
That ne'er encumbers, nor can be transferr'd.

This restless world
Is full of chances, which by habit's power
To learn to bear is easier read more

This restless world
Is full of chances, which by habit's power
To learn to bear is easier than to shun.

How happy he whose toil
Has o'er his languid pow'rless limbs diffus'd
A pleasing lassitude; he not read more

How happy he whose toil
Has o'er his languid pow'rless limbs diffus'd
A pleasing lassitude; he not in vain
Invokes the gentle Deity of dreams.
His pow'rs the most voluptuously dissolve
In soft repose; on him the balmy dews
Of Sleep with double nutriment descend.

Our greatest good, and what we least can spare,
Is hope: the last of all our evils, fear.

Our greatest good, and what we least can spare,
Is hope: the last of all our evils, fear.

Music exalts each joy, allays each grief,
Expels diseases, softens every pain,
Subdues the rage of poison, read more

Music exalts each joy, allays each grief,
Expels diseases, softens every pain,
Subdues the rage of poison, and the plague.