And Weep The More, Because I Weep

Now As The Paradisiacal Pleasures Of The Mahometans Consist In Playing Upon The Flute And Lying With Houris, Be Mine To Read Eternal New Romances Of Marivaux And Crebillon.

There Are Certain Scenes That Would Awe An Atheist Into Belief, Without The Help Of Other Argument.

In Buskined Measures Move Pale Grief And Pleasing Pain, With Horror, Tyrant Of The Throbbing Breast.

Along The Cool Sequestered Vale Of Life, They Kept The Noiseless Tenour Of Their Way.

Alas, Regardless Of Their Doom, The Little Victims Play! No Sense Have They Of Ills To Come Nor Care Beyond Today.