Fool," Said My Muse To Me. "look

Come Sleep! Oh Sleep, The Certain Knot Of Peace, The Baiting-place Of Wit, The Balm Of Woe, The Poor Man's Wealth, The Prisoner's Release, The Indifferent Judge Between The High And Low.

Laws Are Not Made Like Lime-twigs Or Nets, To Catch Everything That Toucheth Them; But Rather Like Sea-marks, To Guide From Shipwreck The Ignorant Passenger.

To Be Rhymed To Death As Is Said To Be Done In Ireland.

In Victory, The Hero Seeks The Glory, Not The Prey.

Sweet Speaking Oft A Currish Heart Reclaims.