How have you left the ancient love That bards of old enjoyed in you! The languid strings do scarcely move! The sound is forced, the notes are few!
And we are put on earth a little space, That we may learn to bear the beams of love.
One thought fills immensity.
The moon, like a flower in heaven's high bower, with silent delight sits and smiles on the night.
Thy friendship oft has made my heart to ache: do be my enemy for friendship's sake.
To the eyes of a miser a guinea is more beautiful than the sun, and a bag worn with the use of money has more beautiful proportions than a vine filled with grapes.