The Drying Up A Single Tear Has

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.

Send Me No More Reviews Of Any Kind. I Will Read No More Of Evil Or Good In That Line. Walter Scott Has Not Read A Review Of Himself For Thirteen Years .

Oh, For A Forty-parson Power To Chant Thy Praise, Hypocrisy! Oh, For A Hymn Loud As The Virtues Thou Dost Loudly Vaunt, Not Practise!

This Quiet Sail Is As A Noiseless Wing To Waft Me From Distraction.

The Sight Of Blood To Crowds Begets The Thirst Of More, As The First Wine-cup Leads To The Long Revel.