It Is Virtue That Gives Glory; That

Drink Today, And Drown All Sorrow; You Shall Perhaps Not Do It Tomorrow; Best, While You Have It, Use Your Breath; There Is No Drinking After Death.

The Poet Is The Nearest Borderer Upon The Orator.

Cares That Have Entered Once In The Breast, Will Have Whole Possession Of The Rest.

Who Will Not Judge Him Worthy To Be Robbed That Sets His Doors Wide Open To A Thief, And Shows The Felon Where His Treasure Lies?

Nor For My Peace Will I Go Far, As Wanderers Do, That Still Do Roam, But Make My Strengths, Such As They Are, Here In My Bosom, And At Home.