The Soul Of Sweet Delight, Can Never

As We Are, So We See.

Poetry Fettered Fetters The Human Race.

To Be An Error And To Be Cast Out Is A Part Of God's Design.

Nothing Can Be More Contemptible Than To Suppose Public Records To Be True.

O Autumn, Laden With Fruit, And Stained With The Blood Of The Grape, Pass Not, But Sit Beneath My Shady Roof; There Thou May'st Rest, And Tune Thy Jolly Voice To My Fresh Pipe; And All The Daughters Of The Year Shall Dance! Sing Now The Lusty Song Of Fruit And Flowers.