All that tread, the globe are but a handful to the tribes, that slumbe >>
The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing wind >>
Pain dies quickly, and lets her weary prisoners go; the fiercest agoni >>
One man's remorse is another man's reminiscence. >>
Remorse is virtue's root; its fair increase are fruits of innocence an >>
To be left alone, and face to face with my own crime, had been just re >>
Remorse is virtue's root; its fair increase are fruits of innocence and blessedness.