Give Me Again My Hollow

Vice Is A Monster Of So Frightful Mien As To Be Hated Needs But To Be Seen; Yet Seen Too Oft, Familiar With Her Face, We First Endure, Then Pity, Then Embrace.

Hope Springs Eternal In The Human Breast: Man Never Is, But Always To Be Blest.

See! From The Brake The Whirring Pheasant Springs, And Mounts Exulting On Triumphant Wings; Short Is His Joy! He Feels The Fiery Wound, Flutters In Blood, And Panting Beats The Ground.

The Scripture In Times Of Disputes Is Like An Open Town In Times Of War, Which Serves In Differently The Occasions Of Both Parties.

The Lights And Shades, Whose Well-accorded Strife Gives All The Strength And Color Of Our Life.