Look back, and smile on perils past.
O, what a tangled web we weave when first we practise to deceive!
How pleasant it is for a father to sit at his child's board. It is like an aged man reclining under the shadow of an oak which he has planted.
Each age has deemed the new-born year the fittest time for festal cheer.
O! many a shaft, at random sent, Finds mark the archer little meant! And many a word, at random spoken, May soothe or wound a heart that's broken!
