Ere The Blabbing Eastern Scout,

His Form Had Yet Not Lost All Her Original Brightness, Nor Appear'd Less Than Archangel Ruin'd, And Th' Excess Of Glory Obscur'd.

For Spirits When They Please Can Either Sex Assume, Or Both; So Soft And Uncompounded Is Their Essence Pure, Not Tied Or Manacled With Joint Or Limb, Nor Founded On The Brittle Strength Of Bones, Like Cumbrous Flesh; But In What Shape They Choose Dilated Or Condensed, Bright Or Obscure, Can Execute Their Airy Purposes, And Works Of Love Or Enmity Fulfil.

Eloquence The Soul, Song Charms The Senses.

Hope Elevates, And Joy Brightens His Crest.

Among The Writers Of All Ages, Some Deserve Fame, And Have It; Others Neither Have Nor Deserve It; Some Have It, Not Deserving It; Others, Though Deserving It, Yet Totally Miss It, Or Have It Not Equal To Their Deserts.