A timid mind is apt to mistake every scratch for a mortal wound.

Muse of the many twinkling feet, whose charms are now extending up from legs to arms.

Tis the perception of the beautiful, A fine extension of the faculties, Platonic, universal, wonderful, Drawn from the stars, and filtered through the skies, Without which life would be extremely dull

Fair Greece! sad relic of departed worth! Immortal, though no more! though fallen, great!

The poetry of speech.

Truth is a gem that is found at a great depth; whilst on the surface of the world all things are weighed by the false scale of custom.

The castled crag of Drachenfels, Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine, Whose breast of waters broadly swells Between the banks which bear the vine, And hills all rich with blossom'd trees, And fields which promise corn and wine, And scatter'd cities crowning these, Whose far white walls along them shine.