Be thou the rainbow in the storms of life. The evening beam that smiles the clouds away, and tints tomorrow with prophetic ray.

But owned that smile, if oft observed and near, Waned in its mirth, and wither'd to a sneer.

Smiles form the channels of a future tear.

From thy own smile I snatched the snake.

Cervantes smiled Spain's chivalry away; A single laugh demolished the right arm Of his own country;--seldom since that day Has Spain had heroes.

Well didst thou speak, Athena's wisest son!/ All that we know is, nothing can be known.