Or If Virtue Feeble Were, Heav'n Itself

Love-quarrels Oft In Pleasing Concord End.

Solitude Sometimes Is Best Society.

As Children Gath'ring Pebbles On The Shore. Or If I Would Delight My Private Hours With Music Or With Poem, Where So Soon As In Our Native Language Can I Find That Solace?

Flowers Of All Hue, And Without Thorn The Rose.

Our State Cannot Be Severed, We Are One, One Flesh; To Lose Thee Were To Lose Myself.