His high endeavours are an inward light That makes the path before him always bright.

From the body of one guilty deed a thousand ghostly fears and haunting thoughts proceed.

Our noisy years seem moments in the being Of the eternal Silence.

A genial hearth, a hospitable board, and a refined rusticity.

One impulse from a vernal wood May teach you more of man, Of moral evil and of good, Than all the sages can.

Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep! The river glideth at his own sweet will; Dear God! the very houses seem asleep; And all that mighty heart is lying still!

The memory of the just survives in Heaven.