Samuel Garth.[295:3] 1670-1719

To die is landing on some silent shore

Where billows never break, nor tempests roar;

Ere well we feel the friendly stroke, 't is o'er.

The Dispensary. Canto iii. Line 225.

I see the right, and I approve it too,

Condemn the wrong, and yet the wrong pursue.[295:4]

Ovid, Metamorphoses, vii. 20 (translated by Tate and Stonestreet, edited by Garth).

For all their luxury was doing good.[295:5]

Claremont. Line 149.