Of Joys Departed, Not To Return, How

Whistling Aloud To Bear His Courage Up.

Beauty! Thou Pretty Plaything! Dear Deceit, That Steals So Softly O'er The Stripling's Heart, And Gives It A New Pulse Unknown Before!

Action, So To Speak, Is The Genius Of Nature.

How Shocking Must Thy Summons Be, O Death, To Him That Is At Ease In His Possessions! Who, Counting On Long Years Of Pleasure Here, Is Quite Unfurnished For The World To Come.

When It Draws Near To Witching Time Of Night.