Thieves At Home Must Hang; But He

And Diff'ring Judgments Serve But To Declare That Truth Lies Somewhere, If We Knew But Where.

Slaves Cannot Breathe In England; If Their Lungs Receive Our Air, That Moment They Are Free; They Touch Our Country, And Their Shackles Fall.

Stamps God's Own Name Upon A Lie Just Made, To Turn A Penny In The Way Of Trade.

Folly Ends Where Genuine Hope Begins.

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