Honor Is But An Empty Bubble.

The True Amphitryon Is The Amphitryon Where We Dine.

Three Poets, In Three Distant Ages Born, Greece, Italy, And England Did Adorn. The First In Loftiness Of Thought Surpass'd; The Next, In Majesty; In Both The Last. The Force Of Nature Could No Further Go; To Make A Third, She Join'd The Former Two.

Death Only This Mysterious Truth Unfolds, The Mighty Soul How Small A Body Holds.

Freedom Which In No Other Land Will Thrive, Freedom An English Subject's Sole Prerogative.

The Good We Have Enjoyed From Heaven's Free Will, And Shall We Murmur To Endure The Ill?