To Brisk Notes In Cadence Beating, Glance

The Boast Of Heraldry, The Pomp Of Pow'r, And All That Beauty, All That Wealth E'er Gave, Awaits Alike Th' Inevitable Hour. The Paths Of Glory Lead But To The Grave.

Where Ignorance Is Bliss, 'tis Folly To Be Wise.

A Fav'rite Has No Friend!

The Meanest Flowret Of The Vale, / The Simplest Note That Swells The Gale, / The Common Sun, The Air, And Skies, / To Him Are Opening Paradise.

Low On His Funeral Couch He Lies!