The mind that is wise mourns less for what age takes away; than what it leaves behind.
Elysian beauty, melancholy grace, Brought from a pensive though a happy place.
Habit rules the unreflecting herd.
The vision and the faculty divine; Yet wanting the accomplishment of verse.
The gods approve The depth, and not the tumult, of the soul.
Controls them and subdues, transmutes, bereaves Of their bad influence, and their good receives.