She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes
O Fame! if I e'er took delight in thy praises, 'Twas less for the sake of thy high-sounding phrases, Than to see the bright eyes of the dear one discover The thought that I was not unworthy to love her.
Dear Doctor, I have read your play, / Which is a good one in its way, - / Purges the eyes and moves the bowels, / And drenches handkerchiefs like towels.