Thy decay's still impregnate with divinity.

How sweet and soothing is this hour of calm! I thank thee, night! for thou has chased away these horrid bodements which, amidst the throng, I could not dissipate; and with the blessing of thy benign and quiet influence now will I to my couch, although to rest is almost wronging such a night as this.

For through the South the custom still commands The gentleman to kiss the lady's hands.

But beef is rare within these oxless isles; Goat's flesh there is, no doubt, and kid, and mutton; And, when a holiday upon them smiles, A joint upon their barbarous spits they put on.

I shall soon be six-and-twenty. Is there anything in the future that can possibly console us for not being always twenty-five?

He learned the arts of riding, fencing, gunnery, And how to scale a fortress - or a nunnery.

Now I shall go to sleep. Goodnight.