What millions died that Caesar might be great!

Britannia needs no bulwarks, No towers along the steep; Her march is o'er the mountain waves, Her home is on the deep.

Truth ever lovely - since the world began, The foe of tyrants, and the friend of man.

The smaller your reality, the more convinced you are that you know everything.

A stoic of the woods,--a man without a tear.

The prophet's mantle, ere his flight began, Dropt on the world--a sacred gift to man.

An original something, dear maid, you would wish me to write; but how shall I begin? For I'm sure I have not original in me, Excepting Original Sin.