Samuel Rogers

The soul of music slumbers in the shell,
Till wak'd and kindled by the master's spell,
And read more

The soul of music slumbers in the shell,
Till wak'd and kindled by the master's spell,
And feeling hearts touch them but lightly--pour
A thousand melodies unheard before!

The Good are better made by Ill,
As odours crushed are sweeter still.

The Good are better made by Ill,
As odours crushed are sweeter still.

Timid dogs more eagerly bark than bite.

Timid dogs more eagerly bark than bite.

And the Sabbath bell,
That over wood and wild and mountain dell
Wanders so far, chasing all read more

And the Sabbath bell,
That over wood and wild and mountain dell
Wanders so far, chasing all thoughts unholy
With sounds most musical, most melancholy.

Nothing is so secure in its position as not to be in danger from
the attack even of the read more

Nothing is so secure in its position as not to be in danger from
the attack even of the weak.