Fanaticism, The False Fire Of An Overheated

Great Contest Follows, And Much Learned Dust Involves The Combatants; Each Claiming Truth, And Truth Disclaiming Both.

I Will Venture To Assert, That A Just Translation Of Any Ancient Poet In Rhyme Is Impossible. No Human Ingenuity Can Be Equal To The Task Of Closing Every Couplet With Sounds Homotonous, Expressing At The Same Time The Full Sense, And Only The Full Sense Of His Original.

The Slaves Of Custom And Established Mode, With Pack-horse Constancy We Keep The Road Crooked Or Straight, Through Quags Or Thorny Dells, True To The Jingling Of Our Leader's Bells.

When Nations Are To Perish In Their Sins, 'tis In The Church The Leprosy Begins.

Remorse Begets Reform.