Such hath it been--shall be--beneath the sun The many still must labour for the one.
This is the age of oddities let loose.
Earth! render back from out thy breast A remnant of our Spartan dead! Of the three hundred grant but three, To make a new Thermopylรฆ!
I should like to know who has been carried off, except poor dear me - I have been more ravished myself than anybody since the Trojan war.
'Tis very certain the desire of life prolongs it.
In secret we met - In silence I grieve, That thy heart could forget, Thy spirit deceive. If I should meet thee After long years, How should I greet thee? - With silence and tears