Whatever Is, Is Right.

O Peace! How Many Wars Were Waged In Thy Name.

Heav'n First Taught Letters For Some Wretch's Aid, Some Banish'd Lover, Or Some Captive Maid.

New, Distant Scenes Of Endless Science Rise: So Pleas'd At First, The Towring Alps We Try.

See! From The Brake The Whirring Pheasant Springs, And Mounts Exulting On Triumphant Wings; Short Is His Joy! He Feels The Fiery Wound, Flutters In Blood, And Panting Beats The Ground.

Light Quirks Of Music, Broken And Uneven,make The Soul Dance Upon A Jig To Heav'n.