All Delays Are Dangerous In War.

Pity Only On Fresh Objects Stays, But With The Tedious Sight Of Woes Decays.

We Must Beat The Iron While It Is Hot, But We May Polish It At Leisure.

The Soft Complaining Flute, In Dying Notes, Discovers The Woes Of Hopeless Lovers.

Thus, While The Mute Creation Downward Bend Their Sight, And To Their Earthly Mother Ten, Man Looks Aloft; And With Erected Eyes Beholds His Own Hereditary Skies.

Secret Guilt By Silence Is Betrayed.