Thou unknown hero sleeping by the sea . . .
I havve brought wrath and ruin . . .
O precious evenings!
What plant we n this apple-tree?
And so he dreadful massacre began . . .
Once into a quiet village . . .
There is a greater army,/That besets us round with strife . . . .
The softly warbled song comes from the pleasant woods . . .
I beheld the pageants splendid that adorned those days of old . . .
Merrily swinging on brier and weed . . .
. . . but strong in the hour of affliction—
The laugh to scorn the slaver’s threat . . .
They eat beans mostly, this old yellow pair.
Dressed in garments green and yellow . . .
Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend . . .
Shrilly the skater’s iron rings . . .