There's A Fount About To Stream, There's

In Reading The History Of Nations, We Find That, Like Individuals, They Have Their Whims And Their Peculiarities, Their Seasons Of Excitement And Recklessness, When They Care Not What They Do. We Find That Whole Communities Suddenly Fix Their Minds Upon One Object And Go Mad In Its Pursuit; That Millions Of People Become Simultaneously Impressed With One Delusion, And Run After It, Till Their Attention Is Caught By Some New Folly More Captivating Than The First.

Aid The Dawning, Tongue And Pen; Aid It, Hopes Of Honest Men!

There's A Fount About To Stream, There's A Light About To Beam, There's A Warmth About To Glow, There's A Flower About To Blow; There's A Midnight Blackness Changing Into Gray; Men Of Thought And Men Of Action, Clear The Way.

He Who Has Mingled In The Fray Of Duty That The Brave Endure, Must Have Made Foes. If You Have None, Small Is The Work That You Have Done.

Much As The Sage May Affect To Despise The Opinion Of The World, There Are Few Who Would Not Rather Expose Their Lives A Hundred Times Than Be Condemned To Live On, In Society, But Not Of It - A By-word Of Reproach To All Who Know Their History, And A Mark For Scorn To Point His Finger At.