The Blushing Beauties Of A Modest Maid.

If One Must Be Rejected, One Succeed, Make Him My Lord Within Whose Faithful Breast Is Fixed My Image, And Who Loves Me Best.

When He Spoke, What Tender Words He Used! So Softly, That Like Flakes Of Feathered Snow, They Melted As They Fell.

Sculptors Are Obliged To Follow The Manners Of The Painters, And To Make Many Ample Folds, Which Are Unsufferable Hardness, And More Like A Rock Than A Natural Garment.

When I Consider Life, It Is All A Cheat. Yet Fooled With Hope, People Favor This Deceit.

Ill News Is Wing'd With Fate, And Flies Apace.