Vain Wisdom All, And False Philosophy.

Sweet Bird, That Shun The Noise Of Folly, Most Musical, Most Melancholy!

Flowers Of All Hue, And Without Thorn The Rose.

One Sip Of This Will Bathe The Drooping Spirits In Delight, Beyond The Bliss Of Dreams.

Such As The Meeting Soul May Pierce, In Notes With Many A Winding Bout Of Linked Sweetness Long Drawn Out.

Have Hung My Dank And Dropping Weeds To The Stern God Of Sea.