They Whom Truth And Wisdom

As Creeping Ivy Clings To Wood Or Stone, And Hides The Ruin That It Feeds Upon, So Sophistry, Cleaves Close To, And Protects Sin's Rotten Trunk, Concealing Its Defects.

Perhaps Thou Gav'st Me, Though Unseen, A Kiss; Perhaps A Tear, If Souls Can Weep In Bliss.

I Will Venture To Assert, That A Just Translation Of Any Ancient Poet In Rhyme Is Impossible. No Human Ingenuity Can Be Equal To The Task Of Closing Every Couplet With Sounds Homotonous, Expressing At The Same Time The Full Sense, And Only The Full Sense Of His Original.

Where Men Of Judgment Creep And Feel Their Way, The Positive Pronounce Without Dismay.

When I Thinkof My Own Native Land, In A Moment I Seem To Be There; But Alas! Recollection At Hand Soon Hurries Me Back To Despair.