Nor Think Thou With Wind Of æry

Virtue Hath No Tongue To Check Vice's Pride.

Thus With The Year Seasons Return, But Not To Me Returns Day, Or The Sweet Approach Of Ev'n Or Morn, Or Sight Of Vernal Bloom, Or Summer's Rose, Or Flocks, Or Herds, Or Human Face Divine.

Apt Words Have Power To Suage The Tumors Of A Troubled Mind.

Beauty Is Nature's Brag, And Must Be Shown In Courts, At Feasts, And High Solemnities, Where Most May Wonder At The Workmanship.

United Thoughts And Counsels, Equal Hope And Hazard In The Glorious Enterprise.