Some Bold Adventurers Disdain The Limits Of

Ye Towers Of Julius, London's Lasting Shame, With Many A Foul And Midnight Murder Fed.

Gay Hope Is Theirs By Fancy Fed, Less Pleasing When Possest; The Tear Forgot As Soon As Shed, The Sunshine Of The Breast.

The Attic Warbler Pours Her Throat, Responsive To The Cuckoo's Note, The Untaught Harmony Of Spring.

Where Once My Careless Childhood Strayed, / A Stranger Yet To Pain.

Any Fool May Write A Most Valuable Book By Chance, If He Will Only Tell Us What He Heard And Saw With Veracity.