I Was Not Always A Man Of

'tis An Old Tale, And Often Told; But Did My Fate And Wish Agree, Ne'er Had Been Read, In Story Old, Of Maiden True Betray'd For Gold, That Loved, Or Was Avenged, Like Me!

The Tear, Down Childhood's Cheek That Flows, Is Like The Dewdrop On The Rose; When Next The Summer Breeze Comes By And Waves The Bush, The Flower Is Dry.

Art Thou A Friend To Roderick?

Real Valor Consists Not In Being Insensible To Danger; But In Being Prompt To Confront And Disarm It.

I Was Not Always A Man Of Woe.