Heaven Gives Its Favourites-early Death.

I Was Accused Of Every Monstrous Vice By Public Rumour And Private Rancour; My Name, Which Had Been A Knightly Or Noble One, Was Tainted. I Felt That, If What Was Whispered, And Muttered, And Murmured, Was True, I Was Unfit For England; If False, England Was Unfit For Me.

A Drop Of Ink May Make A Million Think.

Let Joy Be Unconfined.

Those Who Will Not Reason, Are Bigots, Those Who Cannot, Are Fools, And Those Who Dare Not, Are Slaves.

When We Two Parted In Silence And Tears, Half Broken-hearted, To Sever For Years.