Deep Vers'd In Books, And

Sweet Bird That Shunn'st The Nose Of Folly, Most Musical, Most Melancholy! Thee, Chauntress, Oft, The Woods Among, I Woo, To Hear Thy Even-song.

The Olive Grove Of Academe, Plato's Retirement, Where The Attic Bird Trills Her Thick-warbled Notes The Summer Long.

Enflamed With The Study Of Learning And The Admiration Of Virtue; Stirred Up With High Hopes Of Living To Be Brave Men And Worthy Patriots, Dear To God, And Famous To All Ages.

Which, If Not Victory, Is Yet Revenge.

Hell Has No Benefits, Only Torture.