Good luck befriend thee, Son; for at thy birth The fairy ladies danced upon the hearth.

Where eldest Night And Chaos, ancestors of Nature, hold Eternal anarchy amidst the noise Of endless wars, and by confusion stand; For hot, cold, moist, and dry, four champions fierce, Strive here for mast'ry.

When language in common use in any country becomes irregular and depraved, it is followed by their ruin and degradation. For what do terms used without skill or meaning, which are at once corrupt and misapplied, denote but a people listless, supine, and ripe for servitude?

He who reigns within himself and rules passions, desires, and fears is more than a king.

Her silent course advance With inoffensive pace, that spinning sleeps On her soft axle.

Few sometimes may know, when thousands err.

But oh! as to embrace me she inclin'd, I wak'd, she fled, and day brought back my night.