The Trumpet Does Not More Stun You

The Muses Were Dumb While Apollo Lectured.

I Counsel Thee, Shut Not Thy Heart, Nor Thy Library.

Oh For A Tongue To Curse The Slave Whose Treason, Like A Deadly Blight, Comes O'er The Councils Of The Brave, And Blasts Them In Their Hour Of Might!

To Be Thankful For What We Grasp Exceeding Our Proportion Is To Add Hypocrisy To Injustice.

Summer, As My Friend Coleridge Waggishly Writes, Has Set In With Its Usual Severity.