Age Shakes Athena's Tower, But Spares Gray

The Heart Ran O'er With Silent Worship Of The Great Of Old!-- The Dead, But Sceptred Sovereigns, Who Still Rule Our Spirits From Their Urns.

Few Things Surpass Old Wine; And They May Preach Who Please, The More Because They Preach In Vain

Glory, Like The Phoenix 'midst Her Fires, Exhales Her Odours, Blazes, And Expires.

O Ye! Who Teach The Ingenious Youth Of Nations, Holland, France, England, Germany Or Spain, I Pray Ye Flog Them Upon All Occasions, It Mends Their Morals, Never Mind The Pain.

The Busy Have No Time For Tears.