I strongly wish for what I faintly hope; like the daydreams of melancholy men, I think and think in things impossible, yet love to wander in that golden maze.
So the false spider, when her nets are spread, deep ambushed in her silent den does lie.
Virtue in distress, and vice in triumph make atheists of mankind.
He was exhaled; his great Creator drew His spirit, as the sun the morning dew.
Happy the man, and happy he alone, he, who can call today his own.
An ugly woman in a rich habit set out with jewels nothing can become.