Her track, where'er the goddess roves, Glory pursue, and gen'rous shame, Th' unconquerable mind, and freedom's holy flame.

When love could teach a monarch to be wise, And gospel-light first dawn'd from Bullen's eyes.

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

The paths of glory lead but to the grave.

Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife.

The meanest flowret of the vale, / The simplest note that swells the gale, / The common sun, the air, and skies, / To him are opening paradise.

And moody madness laughing wild Amid severest woe.