Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretch'd in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The silence that is in the starry sky, / The sleep that is among the lonely hills.

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

Poetry is most just to its divine origin, when it administers the comforts and breathes the thoughts of religion.

Plain living and high thinking are no more.

In heaven above, And earth below, they best can serve true gladness Who meet most feelingly the calls of sadness.

But who would force the soul tilts with a straw Against a champion cased in adamant