The hand of Vengeance found the Bed To which the Purple Tyrant fled The iron hand crush'd the tyrant's head And became Tyrant in his stead.

Some say that happiness is not good for mortals, & they ought to be answered that sorrow is not fit for immortals & is utterly useless to any one; a blight never does good to a tree, & if a blight kill not a tree but it still bear fruit, let none say that the fruit was in consequence of the blight.

Naught can deform the human race Like to the armor's iron brace.

Children of the future age Reading this indignant page Know that in a former time Love, sweet love, was thought a crime

The tigers of wrath are wiser than the horses of instruction.

Every thing possible to be believ'd is an image of truth.

We are led to believe a lie When we see not through the eye.