Slaves Cannot Breathe In England; If Their

All Truth Is Precious, If Not All Divine; And What Dilates The Powers Must Needs Refine.

Folly Ends Where Genuine Hope Begins.

Hast Thou Not Learnd What Thou Art Often Told, A Truth Still Sacred, And Believed Of Old, That No Success Attends On Spears And Swords Unblest, And That The Battle Is The Lords?

Where Men Of Judgment Creep And Feel Their Way, The Positive Pronounce Without Dismay.

Our Love Is Principle, And Has Its Root In Reason, Is Judicious, Manly, Free.