When Men Come To Like A Sea-life,

Yet Reason Frowns In War's Unequal Game, Where Wasted Nations Raise A Single Name; And Mortgag'd States Their Grandsire's Wreaths Regret, From Age To Age In Everlasting Debt; Wreaths Which At Last The Dear-bought Right Convey To Rust On Medals, Or On Stones Decay.

Combinations Of Wickedness Would Overwhelm The World, By The Advantage Which Licentious Principles Afford, Did Not Those Who Have Long Practised Perfidy Grow Faithless To Each Other.

The World Is Seldom What It Seems; To Man, Who Dimly Sees, Realities Appear As Dreams, And Dreams Realities.

Gloomy Calm Of Idle Vacancy.

Liberty Is The Parent Of Truth, But Truth And Decency Are Sometimes At Variance. All Men And All Propositions Are To Be Treated Here As They Deserve, And There Are Many Who Have No Claim Either To Respect Or Decency.