A fav'rite has no friend!

E'en from the tomb the voice of nature cries, E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires.

In the evening, I walked alone down to the Lake by the side of Crow Park after sunset and saw the solemn coloring of night draw on, the last gleam of sunshine fading away on the hilltops, the seep serene of the asters, and the long shadows of the mountains thrown across them, till they nearly touched the hithermost shore. At distance hear the murmur of many waterfalls not audible in the day-time. Wished for the moon, but she was dark to me and silent, hid in her vacant interlunar cave.

And hie him home, at evening's close, To sweet repast and calm repose.

The applause of list'ning senates to command, The threats of pain and ruin to despise, To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land, And read their history in a nation's eyes.

Sorrow's faded form, and solitude behind.

Low on his funeral couch he lies!