I Have Great Hopes That We Shall

Age Shakes Athena's Tower, But Spares Gray Marathon.

A Change Came O'er The Spirit Of My Dream.

Mark! Where His Carnage And His Conquests Cease, He Makes A Solitude And Calls It-peace!

We Are All Selfish And I No More Trust Myself Than Others With A Good Motive.

Oh! Might I Kiss Those Eyes Of Fire, A Million Scarce Would Quench Desire; Still Would I Steep My Lips In Bliss, And Dwell An Age On Every Kiss; Nor Then My Soul Should Sated Be, Still Would I Kiss And Cling To Thee: Nought Should My Kiss From Thine Dissever, Still Would We Kiss And Kiss For Ever; E'en Though The Numbers Did Exceed The Yellow Harvest's Countless Seed; To Part Would Be A Vain Endeavour: Could I Desist? -ah! Never-never.