The seas are quiet when the winds give o'er; So calm are we when passions are no more!
Illustrious acts high raptures do infuse, And every conqueror creates a muse.
So must the writer, whose productions should Take with the vulgar, be of vulgar mould.
Gods, that never change their state, vary oft their love and hate.
If its length be not considered a merit, it hath no other.
How small a part of time they share, That are so wondrous sweet and fair!