O, What A Tangled Web We Weave

For Monarchs Seldom Sigh In Vain.

Hope Is Brightest When It Dawns From Fears.

Here Eglantine Embalm'd The Air, Hawthorne And Hazel Mingled There; The Primrose Pale, And Violet Flower, Found In Each Cliff A Narrow Bower; Fox-glove And Nightshade, Side By Side, Emblems Of Punishment And Pride, Group'd Their Dark Hues With Every Stain The Weather-beaten Crags Retain.

Hurry No Man's Cattle; You May Come To Own A Donkey Yourself

Come He Slow Or Come He Fast It Is But Death That Comes At Last