What Showers Arise, Blown With

The Attempt And Not The Deed Confounds Us.

Even Through The Hollow Eyes Of Death I Spy Life Peering.

But Fish Not With This Melancholy Bait For This Fool Gudgeon, This Opinion.

Two Stars Keep Not Their Motion In One Sphere.

Did He So Often Lodge In Open Field, In Winter's Cold And Summer's Parching Heat, To Conquer France, His True Inheritance?