Heav'n First Taught Letters For Some Wretch's

Most Authors Steal Their Works, Or Buy.

Death, Only Death, Can Break The Lasting Chain; And Here, Ev'n Then, Shall My Cold Dust Remain

Fly, Dotard, Fly! With Thy Wise Dreams And Fables Of The Sky.

See The Wild Waste Of All-devouring Years! How Rome Her Own Sad Sepulchre Appears, With Nodding Arches, Broken Temples Spread! The Very Tombs Now Vanish'd Like Their Dead!

The Race By Vigour, Not By Vaunts, Is Won.