In All The Silent Manliness Of Grief.

Where'er I Roam, Whatever Realms To See, My Heart Untravelled, Fondly Turns To Thee; Still To My Brother Turns, With Ceaseless Pain, And Drags At Each Remove A Lengthening Chain.

Turn, Gentle Hermit Of The Dale, And Guide My Lonely Way To Where Yon Taper Cheers The Vale With Hospitable Ray.

O Luxury! Thou Curst By Heaven's Decree!

A Modest Woman, Dressed Out In All Her Finery, Is The Most Tremendous Object Of The Whole Creation.

Embosom'd In The Deep Where Holland Lies. Methinks Her Patient Sons Before Me Stand, Where The Broad Ocean Leans Against The Land.