Thomas Campbell

Ye are brothers, ye are men, and we conquer but to save.

To bear is to conquer our fate.

And muse on Nature with a poet's eye.

What millions died that Caesar might be great!

I'll meet the raging of the skies, but not an angry father.

Tomorrow let us do or die!

The proud, the cold untroubled heart of stone, that never mused on sorrow but its own.

An original something, dear maid, you would wish me to write; but how shall I begin? For I'm sure I have not original in me, Excepting Original Sin.

Tis distance lends enchantment to the view, and robes the mountain in its azure hue.

The patriot's blood is the seed of Freedom's tree.