Just at the age 'twixt boy and youth, When thought is speech, and speech is truth.
Commend me to sterling honesty though clad in rags.
What can they see in the longest kingly line in Europe, save that it runs back to a successful soldier?
To all, to each, a fair good-night, and pleasing dreams, and slumbers light.
Methinks I will not die quite happy without having seen something of that Rome of which I have read so much.
O woman! in our hours of ease Uncertain, coy, and hard to please, And variable as the shade By the light quivering aspen made; When pain and anguish wring the brow, A ministering angel thou!