The Weakest Goes To The Wall.

What Thing, In Honor, Had My Father Lost, That Need To Be Revived And Breathed In Me?

My Love Is Thaw'd; Which, Like A Waxen Image 'gainst A Fire, Bears No Impression Of The Thing It Was

A Little More Than Kin, And Less Than Kind.

What The Vengeance, Could He Not Speak 'em Fair?

It Is The Mind That Makes The Body Rich; And As The Sun Breaks Through The Darkest Clouds, So Honor Peereth In The Meanest Habit.