The man forget not, though in rags he lies, And know the mortal through a crown's disguise.

This was Shakespeare's form Who walk'd in every path of human life, Felt every passion and to all mankind Doth now, will ever, that experience yield Which his own genius only could acquire.

Truth and Good are one and Beauty dwells in them, and they in her.

Hence when lightning fires the arch of heaven, and thunders rock the ground, when furious whirlwinds rend the howling air, and ocean, groaning from his lowest bed, heaves his tempestuous billows to the sky amid the mighty uproar, while below the nations tremble, Shakespeare looks abroad from some high cliff, superior, and enjoys the elemental war.

Away! Away! Tempt me no more insidious love.

Different minds incline to different objects one pursues the vast alone, the wonderful, the wild another sighs for harmony and grace, and gentlest beauty.