Wine Works The Heart Up, Wakes The

And Empty Heads Console With Empty Sound.

With Sharpen'd Sight Pale Antiquaries Pore, Th' Inscription Value, But The Rust Adore. This The Blue Varnish, That The Green Endears; The Sacred Rust Of Twice Ten Hundred Years.

Hope Humbly Then; With Trembling Pinions Soar; Wait The Great Teacher, Death, And God Adore; What Future Bliss He Gives Not Thee To Know, But Gives That Hope To Be Thy Blessing Now.

Let Opening Roses Knotted Oaks Adorn, And Liquid Amber Drop From Every Thorn.

Sole Judge Of Truth, In Endless Error Hurled: / The Glory, Jest, And Riddle Of The World!