For evil deeds may better than bad words be borne.
Her angel's face, As the great eye of heaven shined bright, And made a sunshine in the shady place.
Ill can he rule the great that cannot reach the small.
The nightingale is sovereign of song.
Foul jealousy! that turnest love divine to joyless dread, and makest the loving heart with hateful thoughts to languish and to pine.
All love is sweet Given or returned And its familiar voice wearies not ever.