They say that Hope is happiness But genuine Love must prize the past; And Mem'ry wakes the thoughts that bless: They rose first -- they set the last. And all that mem'ry loves the most Was once our only hope to be: And all that hope adored and lost Hath melted into memory. Alas! It is delusion all-- The future cheats us from afar: Nor can we be what we recall, Nor dare we think on what we are.

Most glorious night! Thou wert not sent for slumber!

Romances I ne'er read like those I have seen.

Then rose from sea to sky the wild farewell Then shriek'd the timid, and stood still the brave, Then some leap'd overboard with fearful yell, As eager to anticipate their grave.

Sometimes we are less unhappy in being deceived by those we love, than in being undeceived by them.

There's naught, no doubt, so much the spirit calms as rum and true religion.

Jealousy dislikes the world to know it.