Rocks Whereon Greatest Men Have

I Hate When Vice Can Bolt Her Arguments, And Virtue Has No Tongue To Check Her Pride.

The Low'ring Element Scowls O'er The Darken'd Landscape.

Cyriack, Whose Grandsire On The Royal Bench Of British Themis, With No Mean Applause Pronounced And In His Volumes Taught Our Laws, Which Others At Their Bar So Often Wrench

Cedar, And Pine, And Fir, And Branching Palm, A Sylvan Scene, And As The Ranks Ascend Shade Above Shade, A Woody Theatre Of Stateliest View.

Truth And Understanding Are Not Such Wares As To Be Monopolized And Traded In By Tickets And Statutes And Standards. We Must Not Think To Make A Staple Commodity Of All The Knowledge In The Land, To Mark And License It Like Our Broadcloth And Our Woolpacks.