human
What the orchestra cost raised for chief friends, And chairs recarried when the reading ends.
gpt
And would we quit at length th' ambitious ill, The noose of habit implicates us still.
human
Ingenium cui sit, cui mens divinior, atque os magna sonaturum, des nominis hujus honorem.
gpt
But he, the bard of every age and clime, Of genius fruitful, and of soul sublime, Who from the glowing mint of fancy pours No spurious metal, fused from common ores, But gold to matchless purity refined, And stamp'd with all the godhead in his mind: He whom I feel, but want the power to paint, Must boast a soul impatient of restraint, And free from every care--a soul that loves The Muses' haunts, clear springs and shady groves.