Scatter Plenty O'er A Smiling Land.

Men Will Believe Anything At All Provided They Are Under No Obligation To Believe It.

Ruin Seize Thee, Ruthless King! Confusion On Thy Banners Wait! Though Fann'd By Conquest's Crimson Wing, They Mock The Air With Idle State.

The Insect-youth Are On The Wing, Eager To Taste The Honied Spring, And Float Amid The Liquid Noon!

Behind The Steps That Misery Treads Approaching Comfort View: The Hues Of Bliss More Brightly Glow Chastised By Sabler Tints Of Woe, And Blended Form, With Artful Strife, The Strength And Harmony Of Life.

As To Posterity, I May Ask What Has It Ever Done To Oblige Me?