Who Dare To Love Their Country, And

Though Triumphs Were To Generals Only Due, Crowns Were Reserved To Grace The Soldiers Too.

Some Judge Of Authors' Names, Not Works, And Then Nor Praise Nor Blame The Writings, But The Men.

Grave Authors Say, And Witty Poets Sing, That Honest Wedlock Is A Glorious Thing.

But Thinks, Admitted To That Equal Sky, His Faithful Dog Shall Bear Him Company.

The Lamb Thy Riot Dooms To Bleed Today, Had He Thy Reason, Would He Skip And Play? Pleas'd To The Last He Crops The Flow'ry Food, And Licks The Hand Just Rais'd To Shed His Blood.