The Man Does Better Who Runs From

Words Empty As The Wind Are Best Left Unsaid.

Nothing Shall I, While Sane, Compare With A Friend.

But Sure The Eye Of Time Beholds No Name, So Blest As Thine In All The Rolls Of Fame.

Rather I'd Choose Laboriously To Bear A Weight Of Woes, And Breathe The Vital Air, A Slave To Some Poor Hind That Toils For Bread, Than Reign The Sceptred Monarch Of The Dead.

To Speak His Thoughts Is Every Freeman's Right, In Peace And War, In Council And In Fight.