Could Swell The Soul To Rage, Or

So Softly Death Succeeded Life In Her, She Did But Dream Of Heaven, And She Was There.

Revenge, Revenge, Timotheus Cries, See The Furies Arise!

But 'tis The Talent Of Our English Nation, Still To Be Plotting Some New Reformation.

I Have A Soul That Like An Ample Shield Can Take In All, And Verge Enough For More.

Secret Guilt By Silence Is Betrayed.