How Glowing Guilt Exalts The Keen Delight!

Give Me Again My Hollow Tree A Crust Of Bread, And Liberty!

While I Live, No Rich Or Noble Knave Shall Walk The World In Credit To His Grave.

Authors, Like Coins, Grow Dear As They Grow Old.

The Hungry Judges Soon The Sentence Sign, And Wretches Hang That Jurymen May Dine.

Still When The Lust Of Tyrant Power Succeeds, Some Athens Perishes, Or Some Tully Bleeds.