While Memory watches o'er the sad review Of joys that faded like the morning dew. - Thomas Campbell

How glorious is thy girdle cast O'er mountain, tower, and town, Or mirror'd in the ocean vast, A thousand fathoms down! As fresh in yon horizon dark, As young thy beauties seem, As when the eagle from the ark First sported in thy beam. For, faithful to its sacred page, Heaven still rebuilds thy span, Nor lets the type grow pale with age That first spoke peace to man.

Whose lines are mottoes of the heart,
Whose truths electrify the sage.

The hunter and the deer a shade.