When much dispute has past, we find our tenets just the same as last.

Who builds a church to God and not to fame, Will never mark the marble with his name.

The cabinets of the sick and the closets of the dead have been ransacked to publish private letters and divulge to all mankind the most secret sentiments of friendship.

A brave man struggling in the storms of fate, And greatly falling with a falling state.

All nature mourns, the skies relent in showers; hushed are the birds, and closed the drooping flowers.

But those who cannot write, and those who can, All rhyme, and scrawl, and scribble, to a man.

Passions are the gales of life.