This the figure is of Jove ,
To a Bull transform'd by Love,
On whose back the Tyrian Maid
Through the Surges was convaid:
See how swiftly he the wide
Sea doth with strong hoofs divide;
He (and he alone) could swim,
None o'th'Heard ere follow'd him.

O'er this marble drop a tear
Here lies fair Rosalind:
All mankind was pleased with her
And she with all mankind.

Press gently on him, earth, and all around
Ye flowers spring up, and deck th' enamelled ground,
Breathe forth your choicest odours, and perfume
With all your fragrant sweets his little tomb.

You wish, O master of my destiny,
That I control myself!
'Twere better you ruled me.
For if I rule myself, I smile at you, and hate.
If you rule me, I love you though I curse, O mate!

When to the Under-world despis'd he goes,
A pamper'd carcase on the worms bestows,
Who, rioting on the unusual chear,
As good a life enjoy, as he could boast of here.

Come, my Content,
The hungry days are spent! —
Beauty, illumine me
As sunlight fills a narrow waveless sea!

I walked when the wood was full of minstrelsy.
A pretty prince came down to talk with me.
He spoke so kindly, and quite loud:
Then he was gone, quick as high cloud.
That he came here is such a happy thing,
I sit quite still in the wood and sing.

Wrapt in cold clay beneath this marble lies
What once was generous, eloquent, and wise,
A genius form'd in every light to shine,
A well-bred scholar, and a sage divine;
An orator in every art refin'd,
To teach, to animate and mend mankind:
The wise and good approv'd the life he led,
And, as they lov'd him living, mourn him dead.

Here is too much food
For the talk to be good,
And too much hurrying of menial feet,
And too kind proffering of things to eat.

I most offend my Deity when I kneel;
I have no profit from repeated prayers.
I know the law too perfect and too real
To swerve or falter for my small affairs.
Not till my ruinous fears begin
Do I ask God for freedom from my sin.
Self-fear is chiefest ally of the Devil,
And I fall straight from praying into evil.