Some Touch Of Nature's Genial Glow.

I Envy Thee Not Thy Faith, Which Is Ever In Thy Mouth But Never In Thy Heart Nor In Thy Practice

High Minds, Of Native Pride And Force, Most Deeply Feel Thy Pangs, Remorse; Fear, For Their Scourge, Means Villains Have, Thou Art The Torturer Of The Brave!

And Better Had They Ne'er Been Born, Who Read To Doubt, Or Read To Scorn.

All Live By Seeming. The Beggar Begs With It, And The Gay Courtier Gains Land And Title, Rank And Rule, By Seeming; The Clergy Scorn It Not, And The Bold Soldier Will Eke With It His Service.--all Admit It, All Practise It; And He Who Is Content With Showing What He Is, Shall Have Small Credit In Church, Or Camp, Or State.--so Wags The World.

Good Even, Good Fair Moon, Good Even To Thee. I Prithee, Dear Moon, Now Show To Me The Form And The Features, The Speech And Degree, Of The Man That True Lover Of Mine Shall Be.