Why Is The Hearse With Scutcheons Blazon'd

Follow Love And It Will Flee, Flee Love And It Will Follow Thee.

One Common Fate We Both Must Prove; You Die With Envy, I With Love.

Envy Is A Kind Of Praise.

Good Housewives All The Winter's Rage Despise, Defended By The Riding-hood's Disguise; Or, Underneath The Umbrella's Oily Shade, Safe Through The Wet On Clinking Pattens Tread, Let Persian Dames The Unbrella's Ribs Display, To Guard Their Beauties From The Sunny Ray; Or Sweating Slaves Support The Shady Load, When Eastern Monarchs Show Their State Abroad; Britain In Winter Only Knows Its Aid, To Guard From Chilling Showers The Walking Maid.

Twas When The Seas Were Roaring With Hollow Blasts Of Wind, A Damsel Lay Deploring, All On A Rock Reclined.