Come, my best Friends! my Books! and lead me on.
Of all ills that one endures, hope is a cheap and universal cure.
Nothing so soon the drooping spirits can raise As praises from the men, whom all men praise.
Hope! fortune's cheating lottery; when for one prize an hundred blanks there be!
I would not fear nor wish my fate, but boldly say each night, to-morrow let my sun his beams display, or in clouds hide them; I have lived today.
Vain, weak-built isthmus, which dost proudly rise Up between two eternities!