Like our shadows, our wishes lengthen as our sun declines.
Britannia's shame! There took her gloomy flight, On wing impetuous, a black sullen soul . Less base the fear of death than fear of life. O Britain! infamous for suicide.
The soul of man was made to walk the skies.
To know the world, not love her, is thy point; She gives but little, nor that little, long.
A death-bed's a detector of the heart.
And all may do what has by man been done.