Freedom Which In No Other Land Will

A Fiery Soul, Which Working Out Its Way, Fretted The Pygmy-body To Decay: And O'er-informed The Tenement Of Clay. A Daring Pilot In Extremity; Pleased With The Danger, When The Waves Went High He Sought The Storms...

Pity Melts The Mind To Love.

The Perverseness Of My Fate Is Such That He's Not Mine Because He's Mine Too Much.

Jealousy's A Proof Of Love, But 'tis A Weak And Unavailing Medicine; It Puts Out The Disease And Makes It Show, But Has No Power To Cure.

A Satirical Poet Is The Check Of The Laymen On Bad Priests.