Threadbare his songs seem now, to lettered ken: They were worn threadbare next the hearts of men.

Lord of the golden tongue and smiting eyes; Great out of season and untimely wise: A man whose virtue, genius, grandeur, worth, Wrought deadlier ill than ages can undo.

Personally, I do not believe that we shall have greater armaments in the future than we have had in the past. On the contrary, I believe there will be a gradual diminution in this respect.

On from room to room I stray,Yet mine Host can ne'er espy,And I know not to this day,Whether guest or captive I.

And though circuitous and obscureThe feet of Nemesis how sure!

The thirst to know and understand a large and liberal discontent.

We hold our hate too choice a thing, for light and careless lavishing.