Lo! The poor Indian, whose untutored mind sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind.

The sound must seem an echo to the sense.

And make each day a critic on the last.

Religion blushing, veils her sacred fires, And unawares Morality expires.

Who dare to love their country, and be poor.

And all who told it added something new, and all who heard it, made enlargements too.

True disputants are like true sportsmen: their whole delight is in the pursuit.