An Horrible Stillness First Invades Our Ear,

Ill News Is Wing'd With Fate, And Flies Apace.

They First Condemn That First Advised The Ill.

One Of The Greatest, Most Noble, And Most Sublime Poems Which Either This Age Or Nation Has Produced.

Tomorrow Do Thy Worst, For I Have Lived Today: Be Fair Or Foul Or Rain Or Shine, The Joys I Have Possessed In Spite Of Fate Are Mine. Not Heaven Itself Upon The Past Has Power; But What Has Been Has Been, And I Have Had My Hour.

Good Sense And Good-nature Are Never Separated, Though The Ignorant World Has Thought Otherwise. Good-nature, By Which I Mean Beneficence And Candor, Is The Product Of Right Reason.