The Dances Ended, All The

The Soul, Uneasy And Confin'd From Home, Rests And Expatiates In A Life To Come.

A Perfect Woman's But A Softer Man.

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

In Lazy Apathy Let Stoics Boast, Their Virtue Fix'd: 't Is Fix'd As In A Frost; Contracted All, Retiring To The Breast; But Strength Of Mind Is Exercise, Not Rest.

Genius Creates, And Taste Preserves.