Wrongs unredressed, or insults unavenged.

A Briton even in love should be A subject, not a slave!

We bow our heads before Thee, and we laud, And magnify thy name Almighty God! But man is thy most awful instrument, In working out a pure intent.

The eye— it cannot choose but see; we cannot bid the ear be still; our bodies feel, where'er they be, against or with our will.

In hours of weariness, sensations sweet, Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart; And passing even into my purer mind, With tranquil restoration: - feelings, too, Of unremembered pleasure: such, perhaps, As have no slight or trivial influence On that best portion of a good man's life, His little, nameless, unremembered acts Of kindness and of love.

One that would peep and botanize Upon his mother's grave.

When his veering gait And every motion of his starry train Seem governed by a strain Of music, audible to him alone.