Seas Roll To Waft Me,

The Worst Of Madmen Is A Saint Run Mad.

On Life's Vast Ocean Diversely We Sail. Reasons The Card, But Passion The Gale.

Is It, In Heav'n, A Crime To Love Too Well? To Bear Too Tender Or Too Firm A Heart, To Act A Lover's Or A Roman's Part? Is There No Bright Reversion In The Sky For Those Who Greatly Think, Or Bravely Die?

No Silver Saints, By Dying Misers Giv'n, Here Brib'd The Rage Of Ill-requited Heav'n; But Such Plain Roofs As Piety Could Raise, And Only Vocal With The Maker's Praise.

Wit And Judgment Often Are At Strife.