Heaven's Sovereign saves all beings but himselfThat hideous sight,-a naked human heart.

Give me, indulgent gods with mind serene, And guiltless heart, to range the sylvan scene, No splendid poverty, no smiling care, No well-bred hate, or servile grandeur, there.

The man who consecrates his hours by vigorous effort, and an honest aim, at once he draws the sting of life and Death; he walks with nature; and her paths are peace.

A soul without reflection, like a pile Without inhabitant, to ruin runs.

With fame, in just proportion, envy grows.

The bell strikes One. We take no note of time But from its loss. To give it then a tongue Is wise in man. As if an angel spoke, I feel the solemn sound. If heard aright, It is the knell of my departed hours.

The blood will follow where the knife is driven, The flesh will quiver where the pincers tear.