Th' Unwilling Gratitude Of Base

Drink Is The Feast Of Reason And The Flow Of Soul.

The Meeting Points The Sacred Hair Dissever From The Fair Head, Forever, And Forever! Then Flashed The Living Lightning From Her Eyes, And Screams Of Horror Rend Th' Affrighted Skies.

Be Not The First By Whom The New Are Tried, Nor Yet The Last To Lay The Old Aside.

The Difference Is Too Nice - Where Ends The Virtue Or Begins The Vice.

Satire Or Sense, Alas! Can Sporus Feel? Who Breaks A Butterfly Upon A Wheel?