Age, thou the loss of health and friends shalt mourn!
But thou art passing to that night-still bourne,
Where labour sleeps. The linnet, chattering loud
To the May morn, shall sing; thou, in thy shroud,
Forgetful and forgotten, sink to rest;
And grass-green be the sod upon thy breast!

The purest form of human intelligence
is goodness.
To your very end you'll need
all your foolishness and resistance
against so-called reason.

Again and again, however we know the landscape of love
and the little churchyard there, with its sorrowing names,
and the frighteningly silent abyss into which the others
fall: again and again the two of us walk out together
under the ancient trees, lie down again and again
among the flowers, face to face with the sky.

As Pope who gathers mony to translate
With Gay the Shepheard Writer mett of late.
Says Pope, your Ecclogues wont come out wth speed
For Phillips to reprieve him Tonson feed.
Indeed the story may be true, says Gay,
For Your Subscriptions give him powr to pay.

Sunshine let it be or frost,
Storm or calm, as Thou shalt choose;
Though Thine every gift were lost,
Thee Thyself we could not lose.

Kiæk jeg vandrer Nattens Mulm imøde,
Hvor foran mig Livets Sol nedgaaer;
Thi bag Tidens Vinteraftenrøde
Smiler himmelsk Evighedens Vaar:
Hvad mig vredt nu truer i det Fierne,
Venlig da vil tindre — Nannas Stierne.

Naar nedad vore Dage rinde,
Blîr Mindet Haab, og Haabet Minde.

Klogskab, skaan en følsom Daare -
Skaan ham, for dit kolde Raad! -
Viisdom, røv mig ey min Taare! -
Haab, misund mig ey min Graad!

Af Recensent faar man Navnet nu,
naar man kan skrive: Dit Fæ!
Til Fejekost kan det Smaakrat due,
som ej har Marv til et Træ.

Ye heedless Fair, who trifle Life away,
Let either Brownlow set your Notions right:
Be, like the Daughter, innocently gay;
Or, like the Mother, prudent and polite.