Men of England! who inheritRights that cost your sires their blood.
Triumphal arch, that fill'st the sky When storms prepare to part, I ask not proud Philosophy To teach me what thou art.
For Beauty's tears are lovelier than her smile.
What though my winged hours of bliss have been, Like angel visits, few and far between.
Coming events cast their shadows before.
To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die.