Tis said, fantastic ocean doth enfold The likeness of whate'er on land is seen.

Laying out grounds may be considered a liberal art, in some sort like poetry and painting.

And mighty poets in their misery dead.

Father! - to God himself we cannot give a holier name.

And he is oft the wisest manWho is not wise at all.

Habit rules the unreflecting herd.

She dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love.