Ode to Melancholy

• “She dwells with Beauty—Beauty that must die;/ And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips/ Bidding adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh”
• • “Ay, in the very temple of Delight/ Veil’d Melancholy has her sovran shrine” 
• "Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue/ Can burst Joy's grape against his palate fine”