Aurora Now, Fair Daughter Of

Lo, What Huge Heaps Of Littleness Around!

How Happy Is The Blameless Vestal's Lot? The World Forgetting, By The World Forgot.

Whoever Thinks A Faultless Piece To See, Thinks What Ne'er Was, Nor Is, Nor E'er Shall Be, In Every Work Regard The Writer's End, Since None Can Compass More Than They Intend; And If The Means Be Just, The Conduct True, Applause, In Spite Of Trivial Faults, Is Due.

The Dying Christian To His Soul (1712) -vital Spark Of Heav'nly Flame! Quit, Oh Quit, This Mortal Frame: Trembling, Hoping, Ling'ring, Flying, Oh The Pain, The Bliss Of Dying! Stanza 1.

Learn Of The Little Nautilus To Sail, Spread The Thin Oar, And Catch The Driving Gale.