No Man Can Be A Patriot On

It Chills My Blood To Hear The Blest Supreme Rudely Appealed To On Each Trifling Theme.

What Is It But A Map Of Busy Life, Its Fluctuations, And Its Vast Concerns?

Toil For The Brave! The Brave That Are No More.

The Art Of Poetry Is To Touch The Passions, And Its Duty To Lead Them On The Side Of Virtue.

Glory, Built On Selfish Principles, Is Shame And Guilt.