John Dryden

Rich the treasure,
Sweet the pleasure,
Sweet is pleasure after pain.

Rich the treasure,
Sweet the pleasure,
Sweet is pleasure after pain.

A fiery soul, which, working out its way,
Fretted the pygmy-body to decay,
And o'er-informed the tenement read more

A fiery soul, which, working out its way,
Fretted the pygmy-body to decay,
And o'er-informed the tenement of clay.

Not aw'd to duty by superior sway.

Not aw'd to duty by superior sway.

Thespis, the first professor of our art,
At country wakes snug ballads from a cart.

Thespis, the first professor of our art,
At country wakes snug ballads from a cart.

The winds that never moderation knew,
Afraid to blow too much, too faintly blew;
Or out of read more

The winds that never moderation knew,
Afraid to blow too much, too faintly blew;
Or out of breath with joy, could not enlarge
Their straighten'd lungs or conscious of their charge.