Chapter 455

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

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_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,

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

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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.

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JOHN KEATS. 1796-1820.

_Endymion_. Line 1.

A thing of beauty is a joy forever.

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_St. Agnes' Eve_. Stanza 27.

Music's golden tongue Flattered to tears this aged man and poor.

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_Hyperion_. Line 5.

That large utterance of the early gods.

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ROBERT POLLOK. 1798-1827.

_The Course of Time_.