No words suffice the secret soul to show, For truth denies all eloquence to woe.

It is true from early habit, one must make love mechanically as one swims; I was once very fond of both, but now as I never swim unless I tumble into the water, I don't make love till almost obliged.

For all we know that English people are/ Fed upon beef - I won't say much of beer/ Because 'tis liquor only, and being far/ From this my subject, has no business here;/ We know too, they are very fond of war,/ A pleasure - like all pleasures - rather dear;/ So were the Cretans - from which I infer/ That beef and battle both were owing her

Truth is a gem that is found at a great depth; whilst on the surface of the world all things are weighed by the false scale of custom.

With thee all tales are sweet; each clime has charms; earth - sea alike - our world within our arms.

Let none think to fly the danger for soon or late love is his own avenger.

Fills The air around with beauty.