When It Draws Near To Witching Time

The Common Damn'd Shun Their Society.

Action, So To Speak, Is The Genius Of Nature.

Beauty! Thou Pretty Plaything! Dear Deceit, That Steals So Softly O'er The Stripling's Heart, And Gives It A New Pulse Unknown Before!

Its Visits, Like Those Of Angels, Short, And Far Between.

How Shocking Must Thy Summons Be, O Death, To Him That Is At Ease In His Possessions! Who, Counting On Long Years Of Pleasure Here, Is Quite Unfurnished For The World To Come.