Homer excels all the inventors of other arts in this: that he has swallowed up the honor of those who succeeded him.
Thou wert my guide, philosopher, and friend.
To endeavor to work upon the vulgar with fine sense is like attempting to hew blocks with a razor.
Truth shines the brighter, clad in verse.
The sound must seem an echo to the sense.
Our rural ancestors, with little blest, Patient of labor when the end was rest, Indulged the day that housed their annual grain, With feasts, and off'rings, and a thankful strain.