Who Dare To Love Their Country, And

Chaos Of Thought And Passion, All Confused; Still By Himself Abused Or Disabused; Created Half To Rise, And Half To Fall; Great Lord Of All Things, Yet A Prey To All; Sole Judge Of Truth, In Endless Error Hurled,- The Glory, Jest, And Riddle Of The World.

Who Breaks A Butterfly On A Wheel?

While Pensive Poets Painful Vigils Keep, Sleepless Themselves, To Give Their Readers Sleep.

No, Make Me Mistress To The Man I Love; If There Be Yet Another Name More Free More Fond Than Mistress, Make Me That To Thee!

A Fly, A Grape-stone, Or A Hair Can Kill.