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And write whatever Time shall bring to pass With pens of adamant on plates of brass.

John Dryden

He trudged along unknowing what he sought, And whistled as he went, for want of thought.
JOHN DRYDEN

Thinking Unknown Whistle
Nothing to build, and all things to destroy.
JOHN DRYDEN

Build Destroy
O freedom, first delight of human kind!
JOHN DRYDEN

Delight Freedom Human Kind
But far more numerous was the herd of such, Who think too little, and who talk too much.
JOHN DRYDEN

Numerous Talk Thinking
I am as free as nature first made man, Ere the base laws of servitude began, When wild in woods the noble savage ran.
JOHN DRYDEN

Freedom Man Nature Run Savage Wild
The conscience of a people is their power.
JOHN DRYDEN

Conscience People Power
He who trusts secrets to a servant makes him his master.
JOHN DRYDEN

Himself Master Secret Servant Trust
The glorious lamp of heaven, the radiant sun, Is Nature’s eye.
JOHN DRYDEN

Eyes Heaven Nature
What, start at this! when sixty years have spread. Their grey experience o’er thy hoary head? Is this the all observing age could gain? Or hast thou known the world so long in vain?
JOHN DRYDEN

Age Empty Experience Known Start World
Pity only on fresh objects stays, but with the tedious sight of woes decays.
JOHN DRYDEN

Fresh Object Pity Sight
All delays are dangerous in war.
JOHN DRYDEN

Dangerous Delay War
None, none descends into himself, to find The secret imperfections of his mind: But every one is eagle-ey’d to see Another’s faults, and his deformity.
JOHN DRYDEN

Finding Himself Imperfection Mistake Secret
Riches cannot rescue from the grave, which claims alike the monarch and the slave.
JOHN DRYDEN

Claim Grave Rich Slave
Trust reposed in noble natures obliges them the more.
JOHN DRYDEN

Nature Obligation Response Trust
While I am compassed round With mirth, my soul lies hid in shades of grief, Whence, like the bird of night, with half-shut eyes, She peeps, and sickens at the sight of day.
JOHN DRYDEN

Day Eyes Round Shade Sight Soul
None would live past years again, Yet all hope pleasure in what yet remain; And, from the dregs of life, think to receive, What the first sprightly running could not give.
JOHN DRYDEN

Hope Life Live Pleasure Run Thinking

And write whatever Time shall bring to pass With pens of adamant on plates of brass.

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And write whatever Time shall bring to pass With pens of adamant on plates of brass.

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