Genius is sorrow's child.

Sorrow is held the eldest child of sin.

How beautiful, if sorrow had not made Sorrow more beautiful than Beauty's self.

To Sorrow I bade good-morrow, And though to leave her far away behind; But cheerly, cheerly, She loves me dearly: She is so constant to me, and so kind.

O, sorrow! Why dost borrow Heart's lightness from the merriment of May?

Genius and its rewards are briefly told: A liberal nature and a niggard doom, A difficult journey to a splendid tomb.