Thou Tyrant, Tyrant Jealousy, Thou Tyrant Of

The Soft Complaining Flute, In Dying Notes, Discovers The Woes Of Hopeless Lovers.

Forgiveness To The Injured Does Belong; But They Ne'er Pardon Who Have Done Wrong.

Death In Itself Is Nothing; But We Fear To Be We Know Not What, We Know Not Where.

There Is A Proud Modesty In Merit.

A Satirical Poet Is The Check Of The Laymen On Bad Priests.