Extreme Fear Can Neither Fight Nor Fly.

Fall Greeks; Fail Fame; Honour Or Go Or Stay; My Major Vow Lies Here, This I'll Obey.

What's The News? None, My Lord, But That The World's Grown Honest, Then Is Doomsday Near.

Well, God Give Them Wisdom That Have It; And Those That Are Fools, Let Them Use Their Talents.

My Love To Thee Is Sound, Sans Crack Or Flaw.

The Poet's Eye, In A Fine Frenzy Rolling, Doth Glance From Heaven To Earth, From Earth To Heaven; And As Imagination Bodies Forth The Forms Of Things Unknown, The Poet's Pen Turns Them To Shape, And Gives To Airy Nothing A Local Habitation And A Name; Such Tricks Hath Strong Imagination.