For Monarchs Seldom Sigh In Vain.

Honour Is A Homicide And A Bloodspiller, That Gangs About Making Frays In The Street; But Credit Is A Decent Honest Man, That Sits At Hame And Makes The Pat Play.

For Love Will Still Be Lord Of All.

Still From The Sire The Son Shall Hear Of The Stern Strife, And Carnage Drear, Of Flodden's Fatal Field, When Shiver'd Was Fair Scotland's Spear, And Broken Was Her Shield!

We Do That In Our Zeal Our Calmer Moment Would Be Afraid To Answer.

To Be Ambitious Of True Honor, Of The True Glory And Perfection Of Our Natures, Is The Very Principle And Incentive Of Virtue.