I Was Born A Scotsman And A

O Come Ye In Peace Here, Or Come Ye In War, Or To Dance At Our Bridal, Young Lord Lochinvar?

The Time Which Passes Over Our Heads So Imperceptibly Makes The Same Gradual Change In Habits, Manners And Character, As In Personal Appearance. At The Revolution Of Every Five Years We Find Ourselves Another And Yet The Same;--there Is A Change Of Views, And No Less Of The Light In Which We Regard Them; A Change Of Motives As Well As Of Action.

I Was Not Always A Man Of Woe.

Love, To Her Ear, Was But A Name, Combin'd With Vanity And Shame; Her Hopes, Her Fears, Her Joys, Were All Bounded Within The Cloister Wall.

Many Of Our Cares Are But A Morbid Way Of Looking At Our Privileges