Fame Can Never Make Us Lie Down

A Gen'rous Heart Repairs A Sland'rous Tongue.

Now Warm In Love, Now With'ring In My Bloom Lost In A Convent's Solitary Gloom!

Not To Go Back Is Somewhat To Advance, And Men Must Walk, At Least, Before They Dance.

Placed On This Isthmus Of A Middle State.

Is That A Birthday? 'tis, Alas! Too Clear; 'tis But The Funeral Of The Former Year.