Yet he was jealous, though he did not show it, For jealousy dislikes the world to know it.

I do detest everything which is not perfectly mutual.

Dreading that climax of all human ills the inflammation of his weekly bills.

There is music in all things, if men had ears.

Like to the apples on the Dead Sea's shore, All ashes to the taste.

I see before me the gladiator lie.

Yon Sun that sets upon the sea We follow in his flight; Farewell awhile to him and thee, My native land-Good Night!