Him of the western dome, whose weighty sense Flows in fit words and heavenly eloquence.
Desire of greatness is a godlike sin.
Old as I am, for ladies' love unfit, The power of beauty I remember yet.
For danger levels man and brute And all are fellows in their need.
What judgment I had increases rather than diminishes; and thoughts, such as they are, come crowding in so fast upon me, that my only difficulty is to choose or reject; to run them into verse or to give them the other harmony of prose.
He invades authors like a monarch; and what would be theft in other poets is only victory in him.