This Horror Will Grow Mild, This Darkness

My Heart Contains Of Good, Wise, Just, The Perfect Shape.

As Children Gath'ring Pebbles On The Shore. Or If I Would Delight My Private Hours With Music Or With Poem, Where So Soon As In Our Native Language Can I Find That Solace?

Virtue May Be Assailed, But Never Hurt, Surprised By Unjust Force, But Not Inthralled; Yea, Even That Which Mischief Meant Most Harm Shall In The Happy Trial Prove Most Glory.

Yet I Shall Temper So Justice With Mercy, As May Illustrate Most Them Fully Satisfy'd, And Thee Appease.

No Worthy Enterprise Can Be Done By Us Without Continual Plodding And Wearisomeness To Our Faint And Sensitive Abilities.