For loveliness Needs not the foreign aid of ornament, But is when unadorned adorned the most. - James Thomson

There studious let me sit,
And hold high converse with the mighty dead.

I care not, Fortune, what you me deny; You cannot rob me of free Nature's grace,
You cannot shut the windows of the sky, Through which Aurora shows her brightening face; You cannot bar my constant feet to trace
The woods and lawns, by living stream, at eve.
Let health my nerves and finer fibres brace,
And I their toys to the great children leave:
Of fancy, reason, virtue, naught can me bereave.

Forever, Fortune, wilt thou prove
An unrelenting foe to love,
And, when we meet a mutual heart,
Come in between and bid us part?