Yet smelt roast meat, beheld a huge fire shine, And cooks in motion with their clean arms bared.

I am always most religious upon a sunshiny day.

I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs, A palace and a prison on each hand.

The drying up a single tear has more, of honest fame, than shedding seas of gore.

The devil hath not, in all his quiver's choice, An arrow for the heart like a sweet voice.

Had sigh'd to many, though he loved but one.

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