Eloquence The Soul, Song Charms The Senses.

True It Is That Covetousness Is Rich, Modesty Starves.

The Planets In Their Station List'ning Stood.

Solitude Sometimes Is Best Society.

Her Virtue And The Conscience Of Her Worth, That Would Be Woo'd, And Not Unsought Be Won.

From Restless Thoughts, That, Like A Deadly Swarm Of Hornets Arm'd, No Sooner Found Alone, But Rush Upon Me Thronging.