Men of most renowned virtue have sometimes by transgressing most truly kept the law.
Fairest of stars, last in the train of night, If better thou belong not to the dawn.
Athens, the eye of Greece, mother of arts And eloquence.
What am I pondering, you ask? So help me God, immortality.
O fleeting joys Of Paradise, dear bought with lasting woes!
He who would not be frustrate of his hope to write well hereafter in laudable things ought himself to be a true poem.