'twas Strange That One So Young Should

Man Is In Part Divine, A Troubled Stream From A Pure Source.

For What Were All These Country Patriots Born? To Hunt, And Vote, And Raise The Price Of Corn?

So For A Good Old-gentlemanly Vice, I Think I Must Take Up With Avarice.

There's Not A Sea The Passenger E'er Pukes In, Turns Up More Dangerous Breakers Than The Euxine.

The Waves Were Dead; The Tides Were In Their Grave, The Moon, Their Mistress, Had Expir'd Before; The Winds Were Wither'd In The Stagnant Air, And The Clouds Perish'd; Darkness Had No Need Of Aid From Them-she Was The Universe.