Death, only death, can break the lasting chain; And here, ev'n then, shall my cold dust remain

There is a majesty in simplicity.

Music resembles poetry, in each Are nameless graces which no methods teach, And which a master hand alone can reach.

One science only will one genius fit; so vast is art, so narrow human wit.

On her white breast a sparkling cross she wore, Which Jews might kiss and infidels adore.

Teach me to feel another's woe, to hide the fault I see, that mercy I to others show, that mercy show to me.

Wit in conversation is only a readiness of thought and a facility of expression, or a quick conception and an easy delivery.