Profan'd the God-given strength, and marr'd the lofty line.
Sleep in peace, and wake in joy.
Honour is a homicide and a bloodspiller, that gangs about making frays in the street; but Credit is a decent honest man, that sits at hame and makes the pat play.
Within that awful volume lies The mystery of mysteries!
Stood for his country's glory fast, And nailed her colors to the mast!
Breathes there the man with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land.