In A Fleshly Tomb, I Am Buried

There Is In Souls A Sympathy With Sounds.

He Is The Freeman Whom The Truth Makes Free, And All Are Slaves Besides.

Vice Stings Us Even In Our Pleasures, But Virtue Consoles Us Even In Our Pains.

All Truth Is Precious, If Not All Divine; And What Dilates The Powers Must Needs Refine.

England With All Thy Faults, I Love Thee Still-- My Country! And, While Yet A Nook Is Left Where English Minds And Manners May Be Found, Shall Be Constrained To Love Thee.