There Are Certain Scenes That Would Awe

Ye Towers Of Julius, London's Lasting Shame, With Many A Foul And Midnight Murder Fed.

The Different Steps And Degrees Of Education May Be Compared To The Artificer's Operations Upon Marble; It Is One Thing To Dig It Out Of The Quarry, And Another To Square It, To Give It Gloss And Lustre, Call Forth Every Beautiful Spot And Vein, Shape It Into A Column, Or Animate It Into A Statue.

Behind The Steps That Misery Treads Approaching Comfort View: The Hues Of Bliss More Brightly Glow Chastised By Sabler Tints Of Woe, And Blended Form, With Artful Strife, The Strength And Harmony Of Life.

Some Village Hampden, That With Dauntless Breast The Little Tyrant Of His Fields Withstood, Some Mute Inglorious Milton Here May Rest, Some Cromwell Guiltless Of His Country's Blood.

Hands That The Rod Of Empire Might Have Sway'd, Or Waked To Ecstasy The Living Lyre.