No thanks attach to a kindness long deferred.
Everyone's a millionaire where promises are concerned.
Sleep, thou repose of all things; sleep, thou gentlest of the deities; thou peace of the mind, from which care flies; who doest soothe the hearts of men wearied with the toils of the day, and refittest them for labor.
The love of fame puts spurs to the mind
To give requires good sense.
The poet's labors are a work of joy, and require peace of mind.