A Lazy Frost, A Numbness Of The

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...

Whistling To Keep Myself From Being Afraid.

As One That Neither Seeks, Nor Shuns His Foe.

Him Of The Western Dome, Whose Weighty Sense Flows In Fit Words And Heavenly Eloquence.

It Is Sufficient To Say, According To The Proverb, That Here Is God's Plenty.