The Conquer'd, Also, And Enslaved

And Oft, Though Wisdom Wake, Suspicion Sleeps At Wisdom's Gate, And To Simplicity Resigns Her Charge, While Goodness Thinks No Ill Where No Ill Seems.

Meadows Trim With Daisies Pied, Shallow Brooks And Rivers Wide Towers And Battlements It Sees Bosom'd High In Tufted Trees, Where Perhaps Some Beauty Lies, The Cynosure Of Neighboring Eyes.

Opinion In Good Men Is But Knowledge In The Making.

Who Shall Silence All The Airs And Madrigals That Whisper Softness In Chambers?

Mutual Love, The Crown Of All Our Bliss.