How Oft, In Nations Gone Corrupt, And

The Low'ring Element Scowls O'er The Darken'd Landscape.

The Timely Dew Of Sleep.

Wickedness Is Weakness.

He That Has Light Within His Own Clear Breast May Sit In The Centre, And Enjoy Bright Day: But He That Hides A Dark Soul And Foul Thoughts Benighted Walks Under The Mid-day Sun; Himself His Own Dungeon.

Have Hung My Dank And Dropping Weeds To The Stern God Of Sea.