Thus I steer my bark, and sail

Fling but a stone, the giant dies.

Avarice, sphincter of the heart.

Though pleased to see the dolphins play, I mind my compass and my way.

To cure the mind's wrong bias, Spleen, Some recommend the bowling green; Some, hilly walks; all, exercise; Fling but a stone, the giant dies.

Nor bigots who but one way see, Through blinkers of authority.

The scene was changed. It was a bark that slowly held its way, And o'er its lee the coast of France in the light of evening lay; And on its deck a lady sat, who gazed with tearful eyes Upon the fast receding hills that dim and distant rise.