It ever is the marked propensity of restless and aspiring minds to look into the stretch of dark futurity.

My day is closed! the gloom of night is come! a hopeless darkness settles over my fate.

Half-uttered praise is to the curious mind, as to the eye half-veiled beauty is, more precious than the whole.

To struggle when hope is banished! To live when life's salt is gone! To dwell in a dream that's vanished! To endure, and go calmly on! The brave man is not he who feels no fear, For that were stupid and irrational; But he, whose noble soul its fear subdues, And bravely dares the danger nature shrinks from.

Still on it creeps, Each little moment at another's heels, Till hours, days, years, and ages are made up Of such small parts as these, and men look back Worn and bewilder'd, wondering how it is.

It ever is the marked propensity of restless and aspiring minds to look into the stretch of dark futurity.

Men's actions to futurity appear but as the events to which they are conjoined do give them consequence.