none are poor.
157
It is right,—the All-judging hath order'd it so;
In the light of His favor the pure maiden stands:
And who, that has gazed on that cheek's modest glow,
Would not yield without murmur his fate to her hands?
Trust on, noble Britons! trust freely the while!
I would stake my soul's hope on the truth of that smile!
In the light of His favor the pure maiden stands:
And who, that has gazed on that cheek's modest glow,
Would not yield without murmur his fate to her hands?
Trust on, noble Britons! trust freely the while!
I would stake my soul's hope on the truth of that smile!
NONE ARE PO0R
Alas! for the gay, who in gorgeous array,
And chariots of pride, to God's altars are roll'd:
They would turn from a love-breathing seraph away
If he came not apparell'd in purple and gold!
And chariots of pride, to God's altars are roll'd:
They would turn from a love-breathing seraph away
If he came not apparell'd in purple and gold!
She stood 'mid the splendid insignia of wealth;
But the jewels that shone o'er her beauty and bloom
But the jewels that shone o'er her beauty and bloom
