Heaven gives its favourites-early death.

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

The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars Did wander darkling in the eternal space.

I depart, Whither I know not; but the hour's gone by When Albion's lessening shores could grieve or glad mine eye.

It is very iniquitous to make me pay my debts - you have no idea of the pain it gives one.

And dreams in their development have breath, And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy; They have a weight upon our waking thoughts, They take a weight from off our waking toils, They do divide our being.

Friendship may, and often does, grow into love, but love never subsides into friendship.