Circumstances Form The Character; But,

Ridicule Has Followed The Vestiges Of Truth, But Never Usurped Her Place.

The Eyes Of Critics, Whether In Commending Or Carping, Are Both On One Side, Like A Turbot's.

But I Have Sinuous Shells Of Pearly Hue Within, And They That Lustre Have Imbibed In The Sun's Palace-porch, Where When Unyoked Chariot-wheel Stands Midway In The Wave: Shake One, And It Awakens; Then Apply Its Polisht Lips To Your Attentive Ear, And It Remembers Its August Abodes, And Murmurs As The Ocean Murmurs There.

Truth Sometimes Corner Unawares Upon Caution, And Sometimes Speaks In Public As Unconsciously As In A Dream.

Where Power Is Absent We May Find The Robe Of Genius, But We Miss The Throne.