Glorious are the woods in their latest gold and crimson.
Truth, crushed to earth, shall rise again.
The air was fragrant with a thousand trodden aromatic herbs, with fields of lavender, and with the brightest roses blushing in tufts all over the meadows.
Look on this beautiful world, and read the truth in her fair page.
Ah! never shall the land forget.
Remorse is virtue's root; its fair increase is fruits of innocence and blessedness.