A Fool's Wild Speech Confounds The Wise.

In The Lost Battle, Borne Down By The Flying, Where Mingles War's Rattle With Groans Of The Dying.

Each Must Drain His Share Of Pleasure, Share Of Pain.

We Do That In Our Zeal Our Calmer Moment Would Be Afraid To Answer.

Lightly From Fair To Fair He Flew, And Loved To Plead, Lament, And Sue; Suit Lightly Won, And Short-lived Pain, For Monarchs Seldom Sigh In Vain.

Good Wine Needs Neither Bush Nor Preface To Make It Welcome. And They Drank The Red Wine Through The Helmet Barr'd.