All Delays Are Dangerous In War.

Rich The Treasure, Sweet The Pleasure,- Sweet Is Pleasure After Pain.

How Happy The Lover, How Easy His Chain, How Pleasing His Pain, How Sweet To Discover He Sighs Not In Vain.

Damn'd Neuters, In Their Middle Way Of Steering, Are Neither Fish, Nor Flesh, Nor Good Red Herring.

Rhyme Is The Rock On Which Thou Art To Wreck.

Seas Are The Fields Of Combat For The Winds; But When They Sweep Along Some Flowery Coast, Their Wings Move Mildly, And Their Rage Is Lost.