Samuel Daniel

Striving to tell his woes, words would not come;
For light cares speak, when mighty griefs are dumb.

Striving to tell his woes, words would not come;
For light cares speak, when mighty griefs are dumb.

This many-headed monster, Multitude.

This many-headed monster, Multitude.

This is the Thing that I was born to do.

This is the Thing that I was born to do.

Th' aspirer, once attain'd unto the top,
Cuts off those means by which himself got up.

Th' aspirer, once attain'd unto the top,
Cuts off those means by which himself got up.

And who in time knows whither we may vent the treasure of our tongue, to what strange shores this gain read more

And who in time knows whither we may vent the treasure of our tongue, to what strange shores this gain of our best glories shall be sent, 't unknowing Nations with our stores? What worlds in the yet unformed Occident may come refined with the accents that are ours?