Our heroes of the former days deserved and gained their never-fading bays.

Abstruse and mystic thoughts you must express With painful care, but seeming easiness; For truth shines brightest thro' the plainest dress.

What you keep by you, you may change and mend but words, once spoken, can never be recalled.

Truth and fiction are so aptly mixed that all seems uniform and of a piece.

Words are like leaves; some wither every year, and every year a younger race succeed.

The men, who labour and digest things most, Will be much apter to despond than boast; For if your author be profoundly good, 'Twill cost you dear before he's understood.

I will not quarrel with a slight mistake, Such as our nature's frailty may excuse.