The gods approve The depth, and not the tumult, of the soul.

Here must thou be, O man, Strength to thyself - no helper hast thou here - Here keepest thou thy individual state: No other can divide with thee this work, No secondary hand can intervene To fashion this ability. 'Tis thine, The prime and vital principle is thine In the recesses of thy nature, far From any reach of outward fellowship, Else 'tis not thine at all.

The Poet binds together by passion and knowledge the vast empire of human society.

There is a luxury in self-dispraise; And inward self-disparagement affords To meditative spleen a grateful feast.

Oh for a single hour of that Dundee Who on that day the word of onset gave!

Earth helped him with the cry of blood.

Of all that is most beauteous, imaged there In happier beauty; more pellucid streams, An ampler ether, a diviner air, And fields invested with purpureal gleams.