Revenge, At First Though Sweet, Bitter Ere

Who Shall Silence All The Airs And Madrigals That Whisper Softness In Chambers?

And The Earth Self-balanced On Her Centre Hung.

As Children Gath'ring Pebbles On The Shore. Or If I Would Delight My Private Hours With Music Or With Poem, Where So Soon As In Our Native Language Can I Find That Solace?

Mammon, The Least Erected Spirit That Fell >from Heaven; For Ev'n In Heaven His Looks And Thoughts Were Always Downward Bent, Admiring More The Riches Of Heaven's Pavement, Trodden Gold, Than Aught Divine Or Holy Else Enjoy'd In Vision Beatific.

Who Can Enjoy Alone? Or All Enjoying What Contentment Find?