The luxury of doing good surpasses every other personal enjoyment.

I never, with important air, In conversation overbear. . . . . My tongue within my lips I rein; For who talks much must talk in vain.

If with me you'd fondly stray Over the hills and far away.

Were I laid on Greenland's Coast, And in my Arms embrac'd my Lass; Warm amidst eternal Frost, Too soon the Half Year's Night would pass.

Around the steel no tortur'd worm shall twine, No blood of living insect stain my line; Let me, less cruel, cast the feather'd hook, With pliant rod athwart the pebbled brook, Silent along the mazy margin stray, And with the fur-wrought fly delude the prey.

In beauty faults conspicuous grow; The smallest speck is seen on snow.

Music might tame and civilize wild beasts, but 'tis evident it never yet could tame and civilize musicians.