Wine Lets No Lover Unrewarded Go.

Beauty Draws Us With A Single Hair.

How Happy Is The Blameless Vestal's Lot? The World Forgetting, By The World Forgot.

To Happy Convents, Bosomed Deep In Vines, Where Slumber Abbots, Purple As Their Wines.

The Hungry Judges Soon The Sentence Sign, And Wretches Hang That Jurymen May Dine.

Thou Wert My Guide, Philosopher, And Friend.