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He sat among his bags, and, with a look
Which hell might be ashamed of, drove the poor
Away unalmsed; and midst abundance died—
Sorest of evils!—died of utter want.

— Robert Pollok The Course of Time (1827)

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More quotes by Robert Pollok

He laid his hand upon "the Ocean's mane,"
And played familiar with his hoary locks.

The Course of Time (1827)

As living jewels dropped unstained from heaven.

Mercy stood in the cloud, with eye that wept
Essential love.

He touched his harp, and nations heard, entranced,
As some vast river of unfailing source,
Rapid, exhaustless, deep, his numbers flowed
And opened new fountains in the human heart.

The Course of Time (1827)

'T was Slander filled her mouth with lying words,
Slander, the foulest whelp of Sin.

The Course of Time (1827)

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Attribution

Quote text and notes from Wikiquote: Robert Pollok (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0. Source quality and labels are our own summary of what Wikiquote records.