He Look'd In Years, Yet In His

Luxurious Kings Are To Their People Lost, They Live Like Drones, Upon The Public Cost.

Resolved To Ruin Or To Rule The State.

While I Am Compassed Round With Mirth, My Soul Lies Hid In Shades Of Grief, Whence, Like The Bird Of Night, With Half-shut Eyes, She Peeps, And Sickens At The Sight Of Day.

Freedom Which In No Other Land Will Thrive, Freedom An English Subject's Sole Prerogative.

Moderate Sorrow Fits Vulgar Love, And For A Vulgar Man: But I Have Lov'd With Such Transcendent Passion, I Soar'd, At First, Quite Out Of Reason's View, And Now Am Lost Above It.