His form was of the manliest beauty

Spanking Jack was so comely, so pleasant, so jolly, Though winds blew great guns, still he ’d whistle and sing; Jack loved his friend, and was true to his Molly, And if honour gives greatness, was great as a king.

For a soldier I listed, to grow great in fame. And be shot at for sixpence a day.

Did you ever hear of Captain Wattle? He was all for love, and a little for the bottle.

There ’s a sweet little cherub that sits up aloft, To keep watch for the life of poor Jack.

Her neck is bared—the blow is struck—the soul has pass'd away; The bright—the beautiful—is now a bleeding piece of clay!— A solemn text! Go, think of it, in silence and alone, Then weigh against a grain of sand the glories of a throne!

There is poetry and there is beauty in real sympathy; but there is more—there is action. […] The noblest and most powerful form of sympathy is not merely the responsive tear, the echoed sigh, the answering look—it is the embodiment of the …