One of the greatest, most noble, and most sublime poems which either this age or nation has produced.
Such subtle Covenants shall be made,Till Peace it self is War in Masquerade.
When he spoke, what tender words he used! So softly, that like flakes of feathered snow, They melted as they fell.
Pity only on fresh objects stays, but with the tedious sight of woes decays.
Prodigious actions may as well be done, by weaver's issue, as the prince's son.
Thou strong seducer, Opportunity!