So sweet the blush of bashfulness, E'en pity scarce can wish it less!
He learned the arts of riding, fencing, gunnery, And how to scale a fortress - or a nunnery.
Self praise is no praise at all.
Which cheers the sad, revives the old, inspires The young, makes Weariness forget his toil, And Fear her danger; opens a new world When this, the present, palls.
Think'st thou existence doth depend on time? It doth; but actions are our epochs.
I stood among them, but not of them: in a shroud of thoughts which were not their thoughts.