None but the brave deserve the fair.
Roused by the lash of his own stubborn tail our lion now will foreign foes assail.
Imagining is in itself the very height and life of poetry, which, by a kind of enthusiasm or extraordinary emotion of the soul, makes it seem to us that we behold those things which the poet paints.
From Harmony, from heav'nly Harmony. This universal Frame began.
Drinking is the soldier's pleasure.
What, start at this! when sixty years have spread. Their grey experience o'er thy hoary head? Is this the all observing age could gain? Or hast thou known the world so long in vain?