And Little Eagles Wave Their Wings In

On Her White Breast A Sparkling Cross She Wore, Which Jews Might Kiss And Infidels Adore.

I Was Not Born For Courts And Great Affairs, But I Pay My Debts, Believe And Say My Prayers.

The Race By Vigour, Not By Vaunts, Is Won.

Happy The Man Whose Wish And Care A Few Paternal Acres Bound, Content To Breathe His Native Air In His Own Ground.

Fine Sense And Exalted Sense Are Not Half So Useful As Common Sense.