You gain your point if your industrious art can make unusual words easy.

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

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.

Grief dejects and wrings the tortured soul.

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

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

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