Mercy To Him That Shows It, Is

I Would Not Enter On My List Of Friends (though Graced With Polished Manners And Fine Sense, Yet Wanting Sensibility) The Man Who Needlessly Sets Foot Upon A Worm.

Remorse, The Fatal Egg By Pleasure Laid, In Every Bosom Where Her Nest Is Made, Hatched By The Beams Of Truth, Denies Him Rest, And Proves A Raging Scorpion In His Breast.

Absence From Whom We Love Is Worse Than Death, And Frustrates Hope Severer Than Despair.

Some Write A Narrative Of Wars And Feats, Of Heroes Little Known, And Call The Rant A History.

The Spirit Breathes Upon The Word And Brings The Truth To Sight.