It Is Very Iniquitous To Make Me

But Stories Somehow Lengthen When Begun.

It Is Very Iniquitous To Make Me Pay My Debts - You Have No Idea Of The Pain It Gives One.

The Heart Ran O'er With Silent Worship Of The Great Of Old!-- The Dead, But Sceptred Sovereigns, Who Still Rule Our Spirits From Their Urns.

Egypt! From Whose All Dateless Tombs Arose Forgotten Pharaohs From Their Long Repose, And Shook Within Their Pyramids To Hear A New Cambyses Thundering In Their Ear; While The Dark Shades Of Forty Ages Stood Like Startled Giants By Nile's Famous Flood.

Then Farewell, Horace; Whom I Hated So, Not For Thy Faults, But Mine.