For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd, Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, Nor cast one longing ling'ring look behind?

To brisk notes in cadence beating, glance their many-twinkling feet.

There are certain scenes that would awe an atheist into belief, without the help of other argument.

The time will come, when thou shalt lift thine eyes To watch a long-drawn battle in the skies. While aged peasants, too amazed for words, Stare at the flying fleets of wondrous birds.

Ye towers of Julius, London's lasting shame, With many a foul and midnight murder fed.

And weep the more, because I weep in vain.

Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate, Beneath the good how far,-but far above the great.