The very best of vineyards is the cellar
Oh that the desert were my dwelling-place, With one fair spirit for my minister
Land of lost gods and godlike men.
Tis strange,-but true; for truth is always strange; Stranger than fiction: if it could be told, How much would novels gain by the exchange! How differently the world would men behold!
No words suffice the secret soul to show, For truth denies all eloquence to woe.
O ye! who teach the ingenious youth of nations, Holland, France, England, Germany or Spain, I pray ye flog them upon all occasions, It mends their morals, never mind the pain.