'Tis here we invade the valley, Away from the realms of breath, And, in most successful sally, We enter the gates of death; So, stand in the last line steady, 'Tis here our true glory lies;...
I plead with tears to thee, Sweet warbler of the shade, Breathe not such strains to me, The sweetest ever made. Who bade thee slight my woes? Who taught to pierce my heart?...