Now My Charms Are All

Yea From The Table Of My Memory I'll Wipe Away All Trivial Fond Records.

That Strain Again! It Had A Dying Fall: O, It Came O'er My Ear Like The Sweet Sound That Breathes Upon A Bank Of Violets, Stealing And Giving Odour! Enough; No More: 'tis Not So Sweet As It Was Before.

The Wind-shak'd Surge, With High And Monstrous Main, Seems To Cast Water On The Burning Bear, And Quench The Guards Of The Ever-fixed Pole.

Lions Make Leopards Tame.

So Full Of Shapes Is Fancy