We Frolic While 'tis May.

Poetry Is Thoughts That Breathe, And Words That Burn.

If The Best Man's Faults Were Written On His Forehead, He Would Draw His Hat Over His Eyes.

Her Track, Where'er The Goddess Roves, Glory Pursue, And Gen'rous Shame, Th' Unconquerable Mind, And Freedom's Holy Flame.

What Female Heart Can Gold Despise? What Cat 's Averse To Fish?

Daughter Of Jove, Relentless Power, Thou Tamer Of The Human Breast, Whose Iron Scourge And Tort'ring Hour The Bad Affright, Afflict The Best!