And hold up to the sun my little taper.

My hair is grey, but not with years, Nor grew it white In a single night, As men's have grown from sudden fears.

The truly brave are soft of heart and eyes, and feel for what their duty bids them do.

I should like to know who has been carried off, except poor dear me - I have been more ravished myself than anybody since the Trojan war.

History, with all her volumes vast, Hath but one page.

Eternal Spirit of the chainless Mind! Brightest in dungeons, Liberty! thou art, For there thy habitation is the heart-- The heart which love of thee alone can bind; And when thy sons to fetters are consign'd-- To fetters and damp vault's dayless gloom, Their country conquers with their martyrdom.

Be warm, be pure, be amorous, but be chaste.