He Is The Freeman Whom The Truth

They Love The Country, And None Else, Who Seek For Their Own Sake Its Silence And Its Shade. Delights Which Who Would Leave, That Has A Heart Susceptible Of Pity, Or A Mind Cultured And Capable Of Sober Thought.

Far Happier Are The Dead Methinks Than They Who Look For Death And Fear It Every Day.

Man On The Dubious Waves Of Error Toss'd.

Forgot The Blush That Virgin Fears Impart To Modest Cheeks, And Borrowed One From Art.

O Solitude, Where Are The Charms That Sages Have Seen In Thy Face? Better Dwell In The Midst Of Alarms, Than Reign In This Horrible Place.