As that toward Freedom's pole, and hence men face
All storms to reach it. If they fail, the sun
Has but one joy—to thaw out wrecks, and trace
Man's progress where alone it can be done.
A FOREST FOR THE KING'S HAWKS
Say, what is Ma-jest-y without externals?
Is Burke's analysis not right—"A Jest"?
Ah, but a jest, at which the poor, oft pressed
To their last heart-drop, laugh not, like court journals.