Part 92 (2/2)

The devil hath not, in all his quiver's choice, An arrow for the heart like a sweet voice.

_Hebrew Melodies_.

She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes; Thus mellowed to that tender light Which Heaven to gaudy day denies.

CHARLES WOLFE.

1791-1823.

_The Burial of Sir John Moore_.

Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note,

We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone, But we left him alone with his glory!

JOSEPH RODMAN DRAKE.

1795-1820.

_The American flag_.

When Freedom from her mountain height Unfurled her standard to the air, She tore the azure robe of night, And set the stars of glory there.

JOHN KEATS.

1796-1820.

_Endymion_. Line 1.

<script>