To So Perverse A Sex All Grace

Ill Habits Gather Unseen Degrees, As Brooks Make Rivers, Rivers Run To Seas.

Griefs Assured Are Felt Before They Come.

Let Cheerfulness On Happy Fortune Wait.

He With A Graceful Pride, While His Rider Every Hand Survey'd, Sprung Loose, And Flew Into An Escapade; Not Moving Forward, Yet With Every Bound Pressing, And Seeming Still To Quit His Ground.

The Gods, (if Gods To Goodness Are Inclined If Acts Of Mercy Touch Their Heavenly Mind), And, More Than All The Gods, Your Generous Heart, Conscious Of Worth, Requite Its Own Desert!