The maid that loves goes out to sea upon a shattered plank, and puts her trust in miracles for safety.
Of man's miraculous mistakes, this bears The palm, "That all men are about to live."
Accept a miracle, instead of wit See two dull lines, with Stanhope's pencil writ.
Each moment has its sickle, emulous Of Time's enormous scythe, whose ample sweep Strikes empires from the root.
Death loves a shining mark, a signal blow.
We cry for mercy to the next amusement, The next amusement mortgages our fields