And These Gems Of Heav'n, Her Starry

And Grace That Won Who Saw To Wish Her Stay.

As Children Gath'ring Pebbles On The Shore. Or If I Would Delight My Private Hours With Music Or With Poem, Where So Soon As In Our Native Language Can I Find That Solace?

Th'invention All Admir'd, And Each, How He To Be Th'inventor Miss'd; So Easy It Seem'd Once Found, Which Yet Unfound Most Would Have Thought Impossible.

For Books Are As Meats And Viands Are; Some Of Good, Some Of Evil Sub-stance.

What Am I Pondering, You Ask? So Help Me God, Immortality.