The premises are so delightfully extensive, that two people might live together without ever seeing, hearing or meeting.

He who grown aged in this world of woe, In deeds, not years, piercing the depths of life, So that no wonder waits him.

Know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime? Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle, Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime!

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

Fame is the thirst of youth.

Sorrow preys upon Its solitude, and nothing more diverts it From its sad visions of the other world Than calling it at moments back to this. The busy have no time for tears.

The mind can make substance, and people planets of its own with beings brighter than have been, and give a breath to forms which can outlive all flesh.