Taste this, and be henceforth among the Gods thyself a Goddess.
Such sights as youthful poets dream On summer eves by haunted stream. Then to the well-trod stage anon, If Jonson's learned sock be on, Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child, Warble his native wood-notes wild.
Death from sin no power can separate.
Revenge, at first though sweet, Bitter ere long back on itself recoils.
Confidence imparts a wonderful inspiration to the possessor.
A boundless continent, Dark, waste, and wild, under the frown of night Starless expos'd.