Pity Only On Fresh Objects Stays, But

What Precious Drops Are Those, Which Silently Each Other's Track Pursue, Bright As Young Diamonds In Their Faint Dew?

Farewell, Too Little, And Too Lately Known, Whom I Began To Think And Call My Own.

Pleasure Never Comes Sincere To Man; But Lent By Heaven Upon Hard Usury.

And He, Who Servilely Creeps After Sense, Is Safe, But Ne'er Will Reach An Excellence.

Humility And Resignation Are Our Prime Virtues.