Moping melancholy And moon-struck madness.
The spirit of man, which God inspired, cannot together perish with this corporeal clod.
Morn, Wak'd by the circling hours, with rosy hand Unbarr'd the gates of light.
He who would not be frustrate of his hope to write well hereafter in laudable things ought himself to be a true poem.
Ah, why should all mankind For one man's fault, be condemned, If guiltless?
At His birth a star, unseen before in heaven, proclaims Him come.