The Beggarly Last Doit.

I Crown Thee King Of Intimate Delights, Fire-side Enjoyments, Home-born Happiness, And All The Comforts That The Lowly Roof Of Undisturb'd Retirement, And The Hours Of Long Uninterrupted Ev'ning, Know.

He Finds His Fellow Guilty Of A Skin Not Color'd Like His Own, And Having Pow'r T' Enforce The Wrong, For Such A Worthy Cause Dooms And Devotes Him As His Lawful Prey.

Meditation Here May Think Down Hours To Moments. Here The Heart May Give A Useful Lesson To The Head And Learning Wiser Grow Without His Books.

Nor Rural Sights Alone, But Rural Sounds, Exhilirate The Spirit, And Restore The Tone Of Languid Nature.

But What Is Truth? 'twas Pilate's Question Put To Truth Itself, That Deign'd Him No Reply.