In Every Work Regard The

Passions Are The Gales Of Life.

Lend, Lend Your Wings! I Mount! I Fly! O Grave! Where Is Thy Victory? O Death! Where Is Thy Sting?

Is It, In Heav'n, A Crime To Love Too Well?

One Science Only Will One Genius Fit; So Vast Is Art, So Narrow Human Wit.

Tis Use Alone That Sanctifies Expense And Splendor Borrow All Her Rays From Sense.