The Best Prophet Of The

Heaven Gives Its Favourites-early Death.

That Famish'd People Must Be Slowly Nurst, And Fed By Spoonfuls, Else They Always Burst.

I Doubt Sometimes Whether A Quiet And Unagitated Life Would Have Suited Me - Yet I Sometimes Long For It.

What Men Call Gallantry, And Gods Adultery, Is Much More Common Where The Climate's Sultry.

I Love The Language, It Sounds As If It Should Be Writ On Satin With Syllables Which Breathe Of The Sweet South