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.
Those whom reason hath equalled, force hath made supreme
Tears such as angels weep.
Ease would recant Vows made in pain, as violent and void.
Fairest of stars, last in the train of night, If better thou belong not to the dawn.
Justice divine Mends not her slowest pace for prayers or cries.