But Oh! As To Embrace

Perplexed And Troubled At His Bad Success The Tempter Stood, Nor Had What To Reply, Discovered In His Fraud, Thrown From His Hope.

As Children Gath'ring Pebbles On The Shore. Or If I Would Delight My Private Hours With Music Or With Poem, Where So Soon As In Our Native Language Can I Find That Solace?

Nothing Profits More Than Self-esteem, Grounded On What Is Just And Right.

What Neat Repast Shall Feast Us, Light And Choice, Of Attic Taste?

He 's Gone, And Who Knows How He May Report Thy Words By Adding Fuel To The Flame?