Heart of oak are our ships

Their cause I plead,—plead it in heart and mind; A fellow-feeling makes one wondrous kind.

This scholar, rake, Christian, dupe, gamester, and poet.

Prologues like compliments are loss of time; ’T is penning bows and making legs in rhyme.

Corrupted freemen are the worst of slaves.

Let others hail the rising sun: I bow to that whose course is run.

Here lies James Quinn. Deign, reader, to be taught, Whate’er thy strength of body, force of thought, In Nature’s happiest mould however cast, To this complexion thou must come at last.