Music, Music For A While Shall All

He With A Graceful Pride, While His Rider Every Hand Survey'd, Sprung Loose, And Flew Into An Escapade; Not Moving Forward, Yet With Every Bound Pressing, And Seeming Still To Quit His Ground.

At Home The Hateful Names Of Parties Cease, And Factious Souls Are Wearied Into Peace.

Truth Is The Foundation Of All Knowledge And The Cement Of All Societies.

If The Faults Of Men In Orders Are Only To Be Judged Among Themselves, They Are All In Some Sort Parties; For, Since They Say The Honour Of Their Order Is Concerned In Every Member Of It, How Can We Be Sure That They Will Be Impartial Judges?

For Art May Err, But Nature Cannot Miss.