The chief glory of every people arises from its authors.

Concourſe, and noiſe, and toil, he ever fled; / Nor cared to mingle in the clamorous fray / Of ſquabbling imps; but to the foreſt ſped, / Or roam'd at large the lonely mountain's head; […]

Lightning is a great flame, very bright, extending every way to a great distance, suddenly darting upwards, there ending, so that it is only momentaneous.

Chook, chook, quack, quack, / Cock-a-doodle-doo; / All the ducks and the fowls / Admire me, they do.