Fowls, by winter forced, forsake the floods, and wing their hasty flight to happier lands.
Errors like straws upon the surface flow, Who would search for pearls to be grateful for often must dive below.
Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire.
He made all countries where he came his own.
All heiresses are beautiful.
Beauty, like ice, our footing does betray; Who can tread sure on the smooth, slippery way: Pleased with the surface, we glide swiftly on, And see the dangers that we cannot shun.