You Gave Me The Key To Your

Let Not His Mode Of Raising Cash Seem Strange, Although He Fleeced The Flags Of Every Nation, For Into A Prime Minister But Change His Title, And 'tis Nothing But Taxation.

A Man Must Serve His Time To Every Trade, Save Censure-critics All Are Ready Made. Take Hackney'd Jokes From Miller, Got By Rote With Just Enough Learning To Misquote.

Eternity Forbids Thee To Forget.

From The Mingled Strength Of Shade And Light A New Creation Rises To My Sight, Such Heav'nly Figures From His Pencil Flow, So Warm With Light His Blended Colors Glow. . . . . The Glowing Portraits, Fresh From Life, That Bring Home To Our Hearts The Truth From Which They Spring.

Next To Dressing For A Rout Or Ball, Undressing Is A Woe.