On this broad land of ours,
That not in vain her poets’ shield
Be quartered with May-flowers.
THE LEPERS OF TRACADIE.[[28]]
“Ah! little think the gay, licentious crowd,
Whom pleasure, power, and affluence surround—
Ah! little think they, while they dance along,
How many pine! how many drink the cup
Of baleful grief! how many shake
With all the fiercer tortures of the mind!”