Deathless laurel is the victor's due.
Forgiveness to the injured does belong; but they ne'er pardon who have done wrong.
Happy the man, and happy he alone, he, who can call today his own.
He who trusts secrets to a servant makes him his master
And love's the noblest frailty of the mind.
Better to hunt in fields, for health unbought, Than fee the doctor for a nauseous draught, The wise, for cure, on exercise depend; God never made his work for man to mend.