But, Oh, Thou Bounteous Giver Of All

Misery Still Delights To Trace Its Semblance In Another's Case.

'tis Liberty Alone That Gives The Flower Of Fleeting Life Its Lustre And Perfume; And We Are Weeds Without It.

Mercy To Him That Shows It, Is The Rule.

That Good Diffused May More Abundant Grow.

Some Write A Narrative Of Wars And Feats, Of Heroes Little Known, And Call The Rant A History.