With battlements that on their restless fronts Bore stars.

Yet tears to human suffering are due; And mortal hopes defeated and o'erthrown Are mourned by man, and not by man alone.

Blessings be with them, and eternal praise, Who gave us nobler loves, and nobler cares!- The Poets, who on earth have made us heirs Of truth and pure delight by heavenly lays.

How is it that you live, and what is it you do?

O Reader! had you in your mind Such stores as silent thought can bring, O gentle Reader! you would find A tale in everything.

What is pride? A rocket that emulates the stars.

How fast has brother followed brother, From sunshine to the sunless land!