Just at the age 'twixt boy and youth, When thought is speech, and speech is truth.

'Tis an old tale, and often told; But did my fate and wish agree, Ne'er had been read, in story old, Of maiden true betray'd for gold, That loved, or was avenged, like me!

Will future ages believe that such stupid bigotry ever existed!

Those who follow the banners oreason are like the well-disciplined battalions which, wearing a more sober uniform and making a less dazzling show than the light troops commanded by imagination, enjoy more safety, and even more honor, in the conflicts ohuman life.

Land of my sires! what mortal hand Can e'er untie the filial band That knits me to thy rugged strand!

Breathes there the man, with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land! Whose heart hath ne'er within him burn'd, As home his footsteps he hath turn'd From wandering on a foreign strand! If such there breathe, go mark him well; For him no Minstrel raptures swell; High though his titles, proud his name, Boundless his wealth as wish can claim; Despite those titles, power, and pelf, The wretch, concentred all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown, And, doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust, from whence he sprung, Unwept, unhonor'd, and unsung.

The chain of friendship, however bright, does not stand the attrition of constant close contact.