Thinking the deed, and not the creed, Would help us in our utmost need.

The surest pledge of a deathless name Is the silent homage of thoughts unspoken.

I hear the wind among the trees Playing the celestial symphonies; I see the branches downward bent, Like keys of some great instrument.

Art is the child of nature in whom we trace the features of the mothers face.

Joy, temperance, and repose, slam the door on the doctor's nose.

.... Anon from the castle walls The crescent banner falls, And the crowd beholds instead, Like a portent in the sky, Iskander's banner fly, The Black Eagle with double head. And shouts ascend on high .....'' Long live Scanderbeg.

My soul is full of longing for the secret of the sea, and the heart of the great ocean sends a thrilling pulse through me.