How! Leap Into The Pit

He Is The Freeman Whom The Truth Makes Free, And All Are Slaves Besides.

The Slaves Of Custom And Established Mode, With Pack-horse Constancy We Keep The Road Crooked Or Straight, Through Quags Or Thorny Dells, True To The Jingling Of Our Leader's Bells.

Oh, Popular Applause! What Heart Of Man Is Proof Against Thy Sweet Seducing Charms? The Wisest And The Best Feel Urgent Need Of All Their Caution In Thy Gentlest Gales; But Swell'd Into A Gust--who Then, Alas! With All His Canvas Set, And Inexpert, And Therefore, Heedless, Can Withstand Thy Power?

Me Howling Blasts Drive Devious, Tempest-tossed, / Sails Ripped, Seams Opening Wide, And Compass Lost.

O Solitude, Where Are The Charms That Sages Have Seen In Thy Face? Better Dwell In The Midst Of Alarms, Than Reign In This Horrible Place.