If you are for a merry jaunt, I will try, for once, who can foot it farthest.

Riches cannot rescue from the grave, which claims alike the monarch and the slave.

Be secret and discreet; the fairy favors are lost when not concealed.

Our souls sit close and silently within, And their own web from their own entrails spin; And when eyes meet far off, our sense is such, That, spider-like, we feel the tenderest touch.

By education most have been misled; So they believe, because they were bred. The priest continues where the nurse began, And thus the child imposes on the man.

The people's prayer, the glad diviner's theme, The young men's vision, and the old men's dream!

You see through love, and that deludes your sight, As what is straight seems crooked through the water.