Oh, Injurious Love, That Respites

Good Reasons Must Of Force Give Place To Better.

The Morning Steals Upon The Night, Melting The Darkness.

I Feel Within Me A Peace Above All Earthly Dignities, A Still And Quiet Conscience.

Thy Wish Was Father, Harry, To That Thought.

But Say, My Lord, It Were Not Regist'red, Methinks The Truth Should Live From Age To Age, As 'twere Retailed To All Posterity, Even To The General All-ending Day.