On wrongs swift vengeance waits.
The season when to come, and when to go, to sing, or cease to sing, we never know.
On life's vast ocean diversely we sail. Reasons the card, but passion the gale.
'Tis not a lip, or eye, we beauty call, But the joint force and full result of all.
Seas roll to waft me, suns to light me rise; My footstool earth, my canopy the skies.
In death a hero, as in life a friend!