Execution Is The Chariot Of Genius.

O Thou Who Passest Through Our Valleys In Thy Strength, Curb Thy Fierce Steeds, Allay The Heat That Flames From Their Large Nostrils! Thou, O Summer, Oft Pitchest Here Thy Golden Tent, And Oft Beneath Our Oaks Hast Slept, While We Beheld With Joy Thy Ruddy Limbs And Flourishing Hair.

Where There Is Money There Is No Art.

Travelers Repose And Dream Among My Leaves.

For Mercy Has A Human Heart Pity, A Human Face: And Love, The Human Form Divine, And Peace, The Human Dress.

When Sir Joshua Reynolds Died All Nature Was Degraded; The King Dropped A Tear In The Queen's Ear, And All His Pictures Faded.