Youth's The Season Made For Joys, Love

But His Kiss Was So Sweet, And So Closely He Pressed, That I Languished And Pined Till I Granted The Rest.

Woman's Mind Oft' Shifts Her Passions, Like Th'inconstant Wind; Sudden She Rages, Like The Troubled Main, Now Sinks The Storm, And All Is Calm Again.

Envy's A Sharper Spur Than Pay.

Praising All Alike, Is Praising None.

Were I Laid On Greenland's Coast, And In My Arms Embrac'd My Lass; Warm Amidst Eternal Frost, Too Soon The Half Year's Night Would Pass.