A strong nor'-wester's blowing, Bill!Hark! don't ye hear it roar now?Lord help 'em, how I pities themUnhappy folks on shore now!
The Sailor's Consolation.
Unlimited power corrupts the possessor.William Pitt
From a grave thinking mouser, she was grown The gayest flirt that coach'd it round the town.William Pitt
My eyes! what tiles and chimney-potsAbout their heads are flying!William Pitt
Prostrate the beauteous ruin lies; and all That shared its shelter, perish in its fall.William Pitt