Britannia's shame! There took her gloomy flight, On wing impetuous, a black sullen soul . Less base the fear of death than fear of life. O Britain! infamous for suicide.

Woes cluster. Rare are solitary woes; They love a train, they tread each other's heel.

But love, like wine, gives a tumultuous bliss, Heighten'd indeed beyond all mortal pleasures; But mingles pangs and madness in the bowl.

Too low they build who build below the skies.

The maid that loves goes out to sea upon a shattered plank, and puts her trust in miracles for safety.

Accept a miracle, instead of wit See two dull lines, with Stanhope's pencil writ.

In chambers deep, Where waters sleep, What unknown treasures pave the floor.