Meek Nature's evening comment on the shows That for oblivion take their daily birth From all the fuming vanities of earth.

A multitude of causes unknown to former times are now acting with a combined force to blunt the discriminating powers of the mind, and unfitting it for all voluntary exertion to reduce it to a state of almost savage torpor.

Sweet Mercy! to the gates of heaven This minstrel lead, his sins forgiven; The rueful conflict, the heart riven With vain endeavour, And memory of Earth's bitter leaven Effaced forever.

Stop thinking for once in your life!

And through the heat of conflict keeps the law In calmness made, and sees what he foresaw.

He murmurs near the running brooks A music sweeter than their own.

A great poet ought to a certain degree to rectify men's feelings... to render their feelings more sane, pure and permanent, in short, more consonant to Nature.