When Beauty Fires The Blood, How Love

A Narrow Mind Begets Obstinacy; We Do Not Easily Believe What We Cannot See.

No King Nor Nation One Moment Can Retard The Appointed Hour.

Desire Of Power, On Earth A Vicious Weed, Yet, Sprung From High, Is Of Celestial Seed: In God 'tisglory; And When Men Aspire, 'tis But A Spark Too Much Of Heavenly Fire.

Music Is Inarticulate Poesy.

Roused By The Lash Of His Own Stubborn Tail Our Lion Now Will Foreign Foes Assail.