And mighty poets in their misery dead.

For by superior energies; more strict affiance in each other; faith more firm in their unhallowed principles, the bad have fairly earned a victory over the weak, the vacillating, inconsistent good.

The vision and the faculty divine; Yet wanting the accomplishment of verse.

Yet sometimes, when the secret cup Of still and serious thought went round, It seemed as if he drank it up, He felt with spirit so profound.

Men who can hear the Decalogue, and feel To self-reproach.

The dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink I heard a voice it said Drink, pretty creature, drink'

To the solid ground Of nature trusts the Mind that builds for aye.