New vows to plight, and plighted vows to break.
The secret pleasure of a generous act Is the great mind's great bribe.
He with a graceful pride, While his rider every hand survey'd, Sprung loose, and flew into an escapade; Not moving forward, yet with every bound Pressing, and seeming still to quit his ground.
How easy 'tis, when Destiny proves kind, With full-spread sails to run before the wind!
Keen appetite And quick digestion wait on you and yours.
But dying is a pleasure / When living is a pain.