But Wild Ambition Loves To Slide, Not

But 'tis The Talent Of Our English Nation, Still To Be Plotting Some New Reformation.

Seas Are The Fields Of Combat For The Winds; But When They Sweep Along Some Flowery Coast, Their Wings Move Mildly, And Their Rage Is Lost.

Virgil And Horace [were] The Severest Writers Of The Severest Age.

Pity Only On Fresh Objects Stays, But With The Tedious Sight Of Woes Decays.

As When The Dove Returning Bore The Mark Of Earth Restored To The Long Labouring Ark; The Relics Of Mankind, Secure At Rest, Oped Every Window To Receive The Guest, And The Fair Bearer Of The Message Bless'd.