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There Is No Learned Man But Will Confess Be Hath Much Profited By Reading Controversies,--his Senses Awakened, His Judgment Sharpened, And The Truth Which He Holds Firmly Established. If Then It Be Profitable For Him To Read, Why Should It Not At Least Be Tolerable And Free For His Adversary To Write? In Logic They Teach That Contraries Laid Together, More Evidently Appear; It Follows Then, That All Controversy Being Permitted, Falsehood Will Appear More False, And Truth The More True; Which Must Needs Conduce Much To The General Confirmation Of An Implicit Truth.

-John Milton

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There Is No Learned

John Milton

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There Is No Learned Man But Will Confess Be Hath Much Profited By Reading Controversies,--his Senses Awakened, His Judgment Sharpened, And The Truth Which He Holds Firmly Established. If Then It Be Profitable For Him To Read, Why Should It Not At Least Be Tolerable And Free For His Adversary To Write? In Logic They Teach That Contraries Laid Together, More Evidently Appear; It Follows Then, That All Controversy Being Permitted, Falsehood Will Appear More False, And Truth The More True; Which Must Needs Conduce Much To The General Confirmation Of An Implicit Truth.

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Just Deeds Are The Best Answer To Injurious Words.

A Grateful Mind/ By Owing Owes Not, But Still Pays, At Once/ Indebted And Discharg'd.

United Thoughts And Counsels, Equal Hope And Hazard In The Glorious Enterprise.

Son Of Heav'n And Earth, Attend: That Thou Art Happy, Owe To God; That Thou Continuest Such, Owe To Thyself, That Is, To Thy Obedience; Therein Stand.

Such Sights As Youthful Poets Dream On Summer Eves By Haunted Stream. Then To The Well-trod Stage Anon, If Jonson's Learned Sock Be On, Or Sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's Child, Warble His Native Wood-notes Wild.

So Much I Feel My Genial Spirits Droop, My Hopes All Flat, Nature Within Me Seems In Her Functions Weary Of Herself.

A Gulf Profound As That Serbonian Bog Betwixt Damiata And Mount Casius Old, Where Armies Whole Have Sunk: The Parching Air Burns Frore, And Cold Performs Th' Effect Of Fire. Thither By Harpy-footed Furies Hal'd, At Certain Revolutions All The Damn'd Are Brought, And Feel By Turns The Bitter Change Of Fierce Extremes,-extremes By Change More Fierce; From Beds Of Raging Fire To Starve In Ice Their Soft Ethereal Warmth, And There To Pine Immovable, Infix'd, And Frozen Round, Periods Of Time; Thence Hurried Back To Fire.

It Is Not Good That Man Should Be Alone. ... Hitherto All Things That Have Been Named, Were Approved Of God To Be Very Good: Loneliness Is The First Thing Which God's Eye Named Not Good: Whether It Be A Thing, Or The Want Of Something, I Labour Not.

Yet From Those Flames No Light, But Rather Darkness Visible.

Beauty Is Nature's Brag, And Must Be Shown In Courts, At Feasts, And High Solemnities, Where Most May Wonder At The Workmanship.

Imparadis'd In One Another's Arms.

Who Reads Incessantly, And To His Reading Brings Not A Spirit And Judgment Equal Or Superior, (and What He Brings What Need He Elsewhere Seek?) Uncertain And Unsettled Still Remains, Deep Versed In Books And Shallow In Himself, Crude Or Intoxicate, Collecting Toys And Trifles For Choice Matters, Worth A Sponge, As Children Gathering Pebbles On The Shore.

They Eat, They Drink, And In Communion Sweet Quaff Immortality And Joy.

When The New Light Which We Beg For Shines In Upon Us, There Be [those] Who Envy And Oppose, If It Come Not First In At Their Casements.

From Man Or Angel The Great Architect Did Wisely To Conceal, And Not Divulge, His Secrets, To Be Scanned By Them Who Ought Rather Admire. Or, If They List To Try Conjecture, He His Fabric Of The Heavens Hath Left To Their Disputes - Perhaps To Move His Laughter At Their Quaint Opinions Wide Hereafter, When They Come To Model Heaven And Calculate The Stars: How They Will Wield The Mighty Frame: How Build, Unbuild, Contrive To Save Appearances; How Gird The Sphere With Centric And Eccentric Scribbled O'er, Cycle And Epicycle, Orb In Orb.

Which, If Not Victory, Is Yet Revenge.

He Who Freely Magnifies What Hath Been Nobly Done, And Fears Not To Declares As Freely What Might Be Done Better, Gives Ye The Best Covenant Of His Fidelity.

Here The Great Art Lies, To Discern In What The Law Is To Be To Restraint And Punishment, And In What Things Persuasion Only Is To Work.

Sweet Bird, That Shun The Noise Of Folly, Most Musical, Most Melancholy!

For No Falsehood Can Endure Touch Of Celestial Temper.

Hell Has No Benefits, Only Torture.

And If By Prayer Incessant I Could Hope To Change The Will Of Him Who All Things Can, I Would Not Cease To Weary Him With My Assiduous Cries.

On A Sudden Open Fly With Impetuous Recoil And Jarring Sound Th' Infernal Doors, And On Their Hinges Grate Harsh Thunder.

Fairy Elves, Whose Midnight Revels By A Forest Side Or Fountain Some Belated Peasant Sees, Or Dreams He Sees, While Overhead The Moon Sits Arbitress.

Luck Is The Residue Of Design.

Rhime Being No Necessary Adjunct Or True Ornament Of Poem Or Good Verse, In Longer Works Especially, But The Invention Of A Barbarous Age, To Set Off Wretched Matter And Lame Meeter...the Troublesom And Modern Bondage Of Rimeing.

For Books Are As Meats And Viands Are; Some Of Good, Some Of Evil Sub-stance.

The Mind Is Its Own Place, And In Itself, Can Make Heaven Of Hell, And A Hell Of Heaven.

This Is Servitude, To Serve Th'unwise, Or Him Who Hath Rebelled Against His Worthier, As Thine Now Serve Thee, Thyself Not Free, But To Thyself Enthralled.

Straight Mine Eye Hath Caught New Pleasures Whilst The Landscape Round It Measures, Russet Lawns And Fallows Grey, Where The Nibbling Flocks Do Stray, Mountains On Whose Barren Breast The Labouring Clouds Do Often Rest; Meadows Trim With Daisies Pied, Shallow Brooks, And Rivers Wide.

On The Tawny Sands And Shelves Trip The Pert Fairies And The Dapper Elves.

Such Sweet Compulsion Doth In Music Lie.

Long Is The Way And Hard, That Out Of Hell Leads Up To Light.

And Feel That I Am Happier Than I Know.

Gratitude Bestows Reverence.....changing Forever How We Experience Life And The World.

As Therefore The State Of Man Now Is, What Wisdom Can There Be To Choose, What Continence To Forbear, Without The Knowledge Of Good And Evil?

For Books Are Not Absolutely Dead Things, But Do Contain A Potency Of Life In Them To Be As Active As That Soul Was Whose Progeny They Are; Nay, They Do Preserve As In A Vial The Purest Efficacy And Extraction Of That Living Intellect That Bred Them.

These Are Thy Glorious Works Parent Of Good, Almighty, Thine This Universal Frame, Thus Wondrous Fair; Thy Self How Wondrous Then! Unspeakable, Who Sitst Above These Heavens To Us Invisible Or Dimly Seen In These Thy Lowest Works, Yet These Declare Thy Goodness Beyond Thought, And Power Divine: Speak Ye Who Best Can Tell, Ye Sons Of Light, Angels, For Ye Behold Him, And With Songs And Choral Symphonies, Day Without Night, Circle His Throne Rejoicing, Ye In Heav'n, On Earth Join All Ye Creatures To Extoll Him First, Him Last, Him Midst, And Without End.

The Conquer'd, Also, And Enslaved By War, Shall, With Their Freedom Lost, All Virtue Lose.

And I Will Place Within Them As A Guide My Umpire Conscience, Whom If They Will Hear Light After Light Well Used They Shall Attain, And To The End Persisting, Safe Arrive.

Live While Ye May, Yet Happy Pair.

You Can Make Hell Out Of Heaven And Heaven Out Of Hell. It's All In The Mind.

The Sacred Influence Of Light Appears.

There Is No Learned Man But Will Confess Be Hath Much Profited By Reading Controversies,--his Senses Awakened, His Judgment Sharpened, And The Truth Which He Holds Firmly Established. If Then It Be Profitable For Him To Read, Why Should It Not At Least Be Tolerable And Free For His Adversary To Write? In Logic They Teach That Contraries Laid Together, More Evidently Appear; It Follows Then, That All Controversy Being Permitted, Falsehood Will Appear More False, And Truth The More True; Which Must Needs Conduce Much To The General Confirmation Of An Implicit Truth.

Knowledge Cannot Defile, Nor Consequently The Books, If The Will And Conscience Be Not Defiled.

Truth Is Compared In Scripture To A Streaming Fountain; If Her Waters Flow Not In Perpetual Progression, They Sicken Into A Muddy Pool Of Conformity And Tradition.

And To Thy Husband's Will Thine Shall Submit; He Over Thee Shall Rule.

Now I See Peace To Corrupt No Less Than War To Waste.

Joking Decides Great Things, Stronger And Better Oft Than Earnest Can.

So Hand In Hand They Passed, The Loveliest Pair That Ever Since In Love's Embraces Met -- Adam, The Goodliest Man Of Men Since Born His Sons; The Fairest Of Her Daughters Eve.

None But Such As Are Good Men Can Give Good Things, And That Which Is Not Good, Is Not Delicious To A Well-govern'd And Wise Appetite.

They Who Have Put Out The People's Eyes Reproach Them Of Their Blindness.

Well Observe The Rule Of Not Too Much, By Temperance Taught In What Thou Eat'st And Drink'st.

Sometime Let Gorgeous Tragedy In Sceptred Pall Come Sweeping By, Presenting Thebes, Or Pelops' Line, Or The Tale Of Troy Divine.

Come And Trip It As Ye Go On The Light Fantastic Toe.

Fate Shall Yield To Fickle Chance, And Chaos Judge The Strife.

Which Way I Fly Is Hell; Myself Am Hell.

Sabrina Fair, Listen Where Thou Art Sitting Under The Glassy, Cool, Translucent Wave, In Twisted Braids Of Lilies Knitting The Loose Train Of Thy Amber-dropping Hair.

A Poet Soaring In The High Reason Of His Fancies, With His Garland And Singing Robes About Him.

Abashed The Devil Stood And Felt How Awful Goodness Is And Saw Virtue In Her Shape How Lovely: And Pined His Loss

The Great Creator From His Work Returned Magnificent, His Six Days' Work, A World.

But O Yet More Miserable! Myself My Sepulchre, A Moving Grave.

Part Of My Soul I Seek Thee, And Claim Thee My Other Half

We Read Not That Christ Ever Exercised Force But Once; And That Was To Drive Profane Ones Out Of His Temple, Not To Force Them In.

Anger And Just Rebuke, And Judgment Given, That Brought Into This World A World Of Woe, Sin And Her Shadow Death, And Misery, Death's Harbinger.

Eloquence The Soul, Song Charms The Senses.

Courtesy Which Oft Is Found In Lowly Sheds, With Smoky Rafters, Than In Tapestry Halls And Courts Of Princes, Where It First Was Named.

Death Is The Golden Key That Opens The Palace Of Eternity.

Eternity Of Life

But When Lust By Unchaste Looks, Loose Gestures, And Foul Talk, But Most By Lewd And Lavish Arts Of Sin, Lets In Defilement To The Inward Parts, The Soul Grows Clotted By Contagion, Imbodies And Imbrutes, Till She Quite Lose The Divine Property Of Her First Being.

In Discourse More Sweet; For Eloquence The Soul, Song Charms The Sense. Others Apart Sat On A Hill Retir'd, In Thoughts More Elevate, And Reason'd High Of Providence, Foreknowledge, Will, And Fate, Fix'd Fate, Free-will, Foreknowledge Absolute; And Found No End, In Wand'ring Mazes Lost.

Into This Wild Abyss, The Womb Of Nature And Perhaps Her Grave.

And Yet On The Other Hand Unless Warinesse Be Us'd, As Good Almost Kill A Man As Kill A Good Book; Who Kills A Man Kills A Reasonable Creature, Gods Image, But Hee Who Destroyes A Good Booke, Kills Reason It Selfe, Kills The Image Of God, As It Were In The Eye.

Let Us No More Contend, Nor Blame Each Other, Blamed Enough Elsewhere, But Strive, In Offices Of Love, How We May Lighten Each Other's Burden.

Education Of Youth Is Not A Bow For Every Man To Shoot In That Counts Himself A Teacher; But Will Require Sinews Almost Equal To Those Which Homer Gave To Ulysses.

A Shout That Tore Hell's Concave, And Beyond / Frightened The Reign Of Chaos And Old Night.

The Spirit Of Man, Which God Inspired, Cannot Together Perish With This Corporeal Clod.

Prudence Is The Virtue By Which We Discern What Is Proper To Do Under Various Circumstances In Time And Place.

He That Hath Light Within Their Own Breast, May Sit In The Centre And Enjoy Bright Day.

Leaves Have Their Time To Fall, And Flowers To Wither At The North - Wind's Breath, And Stars To Set; But All, Thou Hast All Seasons For Thine Own, O Death!

His Sleep Was Aery Light, From Pure Digestion Bred.

Let No Man Seek Henceforth To Be Foretold That Shall Befall Him Or His Children.

Fear Of Change Perplexes Monarchs.

Ladies, Whose Bright Eyes Rain Influence, And Judge The Prize.

Therefore, If At Great Things Thou Wouldst Arrive, Get Riches First, Get Wealth.

Our Torments Also May In Length Of Time Become Our Elements, These Piercing Fires As Soft As Now Severe, Our Temper Changed Into Their Temper.

He Scarce Had Ceased When The Superior Fiend Was Moving Toward The Shore; His Ponderous Shield Ethereal Temper, Massy, Large And Round, Behind Him Cast; The Broad Circumference Hung On His Shoulders Like The Moon, Whose Orb Through Optic Glass The Tuscan Artist Views At Evening From The Top Of Fésolè, Or In Valdarno, To Descry New Lands, Rivers Or Mountains In Her Spotty Globe.

Know Thy Birth! For Dost Thou Art, And Shalt To Dust Return.

Midnight Shout And Revelry, Tipsy Dance And Jollity.

Smiles From Reason Flow, To Brute Deny'd, And Are Of Love The Food.

When Language In Common Use In Any Country Becomes Irregular And Depraved, It Is Followed By Their Ruin And Degradation. For What Do Terms Used Without Skill Or Meaning, Which Are At Once Corrupt And Misapplied, Denote But A People Listless, Supine, And Ripe For Servitude?

All Seemed Well Pleased, All Seemed, But Were Not All.

Can Any Mortal Mixture Of Earth's Mould Breathe Such Divine Enchanting Ravishment?

What Am I Pondering, You Ask? So Help Me God, Immortality.

Only This I Know, That One Celestial Father Gives To All.

Her Silent Course Advance With Inoffensive Pace, That Spinning Sleeps On Her Soft Axle.

Retiring From The Popular Noise, I Seek This Unfrequented Place To Find Some Ease.

For Men To Tell How Human Life Began Is Hard; For Who Himself Beginning Knew?

Let Us Seek Death, Or He Not Found, Supply With Our Own Hands His Office On Ourselves; Why Stand We Longer Shivering Under Fears, That Show No End But Death, And Have The Power, Of Many Ways To Die The Shortest Choosing, Destruction With Destruction To Destroy.

Contemplation Is Wisdom's Best Nurse.

One Sip Of This Will Bathe The Drooping Spirits In Delight, Beyond The Bliss Of Dreams.

Heaven Open'd Wide Her Ever During Gates, Harmonious Sound, On Golden Hinges Moving.

Tis Chastity, My Brother, Chastity; She That Has That Is Clad In Complete Steel, And, Like A Quiver'd Nymph With Arrows Keen, May Trace Huge Forests, And Unharbour'd Heaths, Infamous Hills, And Sandy Perilous Wilds; Where, Through The Sacred Rays Of Chastity, No Savage Fierce, Bandite, Or Mountaineer, Will Dare To Soil Her Virgin Purity.

Laws Can Discover Sin, But Not Remove It

He Who Destroys A Good Book Kills Reason Itself.

Who Knows Not Circe, The Daughter Of The Sun , Whose Charmed Cup Whoever Tasted, Lost His Upright Shape, And Downward Fell Into A Groveling Swine?

Virtue Hath No Tongue To Check Vice's Pride.

How Gladly Would I Meet Mortality, My Sentence, And Be Earth In Sensible! How Glad Would Lay Me Down, As In My Mother's Lap! There I Should Rest, And Sleep Secure.

Evil Into The Mind Of God Or Man May Come And Go, So Unapproved, And Leave No Spot Or Blame Behind.

Iris All Hues, Roses, And Jessamine Reared High Their Flourished Heads Between, And Wrought Mosaic; Underfoot The Violet, Crocus, And Hyacinth With Rich Inlay Broidered The Ground, More Coloured Than With Stone Of Costliest Emblem: Other Creature Here Beast, Bird, Insect, Or Worm Durst Enter None; Such Was Their Awe Of Man.

To-morrow To Fresh Woods, And Pastures New.

The End Then Of Learning Is To Repair The Ruins Of Our First Parents By Regaining To Know God Aright, And Out Of That Knowledge To Love Him, To Imitate Him, To Be Like Him, As We May The Nearest By Possessing Our Souls Of True Virtue, Which Being United To The Heavenly Grace Of Faith Makes Up The Highest Perfection.

A Crown Golden In Show, Is But A Wreath Of Thorns, Bring Dangers, Troubles, Cares, And Sleepless Nights To Him Who Wears The Regal Diadem

Abash'd The Devil Stood, And Felt How Awful Goodness Is.

And Join With Thee Calm Peace And Quiet, Spare Fast, That Oft With Gods Doth Diet.

Believe And Be Confirmed.

See Golden Days, Fruitful Of Golden Deeds, With Joy And Love Triumphing.

And So Sepúlchred In Such Pomp Dost Lie, That Kings For Such A Tomb Would Wish To Die.

Books Are Not Absolutely Dead Things, But Do Contain A Potency Of Life In Them....i Know They Are As Lively And As Vigorously Productive As Those Fabulous Dragon's Teeth And Being Sown Up And Down, May Chance To Spring Up Armed Men.

Immediate Are The Acts Of God, More Swift Than Time Or Motion.

And Out Of Good Still To Find Means Of Evil.

So Sinks The Day-star In The Ocean Bed, And Yet Anon Repairs His Drooping Head, And Tricks His Beams, And With New-spangled Ore Flames In The Forehead Of The Morning Sky.

Thus Belial, With Words Clothed In Reason's Garb, Counseled Ignoble Ease, And Peaceful Sloth, Not Peace.

God Is Thy Law, Thou Mine.

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So Glistered The Dire Snake , And Into Fraud Led Eve, Our Credulous Mother, To The Tree Of Prohibition, Root Of All Our Woe.

The Love-lorn Nightingale Nightly To Thee Her Sad Song Mourneth Well.

Of Calling Shapes, And Beck'ning Shadows Dire, And Airy Tongues That Syllable Men's Names.

He Alone Is Worthy Of The Appellation Who Either Does Great Things, Or Teaches How They May Be Done, Or Describes Them With A Suitable Majesty When They Have Been Done; But Those Only Are Great Things Which Tend To Render Life More Happy, Which Increase The Innocent Enjoyments And Comforts Of Existence, Or Which Pave The Way To A State Of Future Bliss More Permanent And More Pure.

Gratitude Bestows Reverence, Allowing Us To Encounter Everyday Epiphanies.

So Farewell Hope, And With Hope Farewell Fear,farewell Remorse: All Good To Me Is Lost;evil,be Thou My Good.

And Now Without Redemption All Mankind Must Have Been Lost, Adjudged To Death And Hell By Doom Severe.

Ask For This Great Deliverer Now, And Find Him Eyeless In Gaza At The Mill With Slaves.

He That Can Apprehend And Consider Vice With All Her Baits And Seeming Pleasures, And Yet Abstain, And Yet Distinguish, And Yet Prefer That Which Is Truly Better, He Is The True Wayfaring Christian. I Cannot Praise A Fugitive And Cloistered Virtue, Unexercised And Unbreathed, That Never Sallies Out And Sees Her Adversary, But Slinks Out Of The Race, Where That Immortal Garland Is To Be Run For, Not Without Dust And Heat. Assuredly We Bring Not Innocence Into The World, We Bring Impurity Much Rather: That Which Purifies Us Is Trial, And Trial Is By What Is Contrary.

My Latest Found, Heaven's Last, Best Gift, My Ever New Delight!

Pandemonium, The High Capital Of Satan And His Peers.

The Liberty Of Conscience, Which Above All Other Things Ought To Be To All Men Dearest And Most Precious.

And Fast By, Hanging In A Golden Chain, This Pendent World, In Bigness As A Star Of Smallest Magnitude, Close By The Moon.

Sweet Intercourse Of Looks And Smiles; For Smiles From Reason Flow.

The Best Apology Against False Accusers Is Silence.

For What Can War, But Endless War, Still Breed?

Her Virtue And The Conscience Of Her Worth, That Would Be Woo'd, And Not Unsought Be Won.

When A King Sets Himself To Bandy Against The Highest Court And Residence Of All Regal Powers, He Then, In The Single Person Of A Man, Fights Against His Own Majesty And Kingship.

Enjoy Your Dear Wit And Gay Rhetoric, That Hath So Well Been Taught Her Dazzling Fence.

All Is Not Lost, The Unconquerable Will, And Study Of Revenge, Immortal Hate, And The Courage Never To Submit Or Yield.

I Fled, And Cry'd Out, Death; Hell Trembled At The Hideous Name, And Sigh'd From All Her Caves, And Back Resounded, Death.

Virtue Could See To Do What Virtue Would By Her Own Radiant Light, Though Sun And Moon Were In The Flat Sea Sunk. And Wisdom's Self Oft Seeks To Sweet Retired Solitude, Where With Her Best Nurse Contemplation She Plumes Her Feathers And Lets Grow Her Wings, That In The Various Bustle Of Resort Were All-to Ruffled, And Sometimes Impair'd. He That Has Light Within His Own Clear Breast May Sit I' Th' Centre And Enjoy Bright Day; But He That Hides A Dark Soul And Foul Thoughts Benighted Walks Under The Midday Sun.

Some Say No Evil Thing That Walks By Night, In Fog Or Fire, By Lake Or Moorish Fen, Blue Meagre Hag, Or Stubborn Unlaid Ghost That Breaks His Magic Chains At Curfew Time, No Goblin, Or Swart Fairy Of The Mine, Hath Hurtful Power O'er True Virginity.

Fame Is The Last Infirmity Of The Human Mind.

Spirits When They Please Can Either Sex Assume, Or Both.

Law Can Discover Sin, But Not Remove, Save By Those Shadowy Expiations Weak.

New Presbyter Is But Old Priest Writ Large.

The Nodding Horror Of Whose Shady Brows Threats The Forlorn And Wandering Passenger.

A Death-like Sleep, A Gentle Wafting To Immortal Life.

Necessity And Chance Approach Not Me, And What I Will Is Fate.

And The More I See Pleasures About Me, So Much More I Feel Torment Within Me.

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The Strongest And The Fiercest Spirit That Fought In Heaven, Now Fiercer By Despair.

The Power Of Kings And Magistrates Is Nothing Else, But What Is Only Derivative, Transferrd And Committed To Them In Trust From The People, To The Common Good Of Them All, In Whom The Power Yet Remaines Fundamentally, And Cannot Be Takn From Them, Without A Violation Of Thir Natural Birthright.

Such Joy Ambition Finds.

Farewell Hope, And With Hope Farewell Fear

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God, Who Oft Descends To Visit Men Unseen, And Through Their Habitations Walks To Mark Their Doings.

Anon Out Of The Earth A Fabric Huge Rose, Like An Exhalation.

Fairest Of Stars, Last In The Train Of Night, If Better Thou Belong Not To The Dawn.

Yet Hold It More Humane, More Heav'nly, First, By Winning Words To Conquer Willing Hearts, And Make Persuasion Do The Work Of Fear.

Ride The Air In Whirlwind.

A Boundless Continent, Dark, Waste, And Wild, Under The Frown Of Night Starless Expos'd.

Beauty Is Nature's Coin, Must Not Be Hoarded, But Must Be Current, And The Good Thereof Consists In Mutual And Partaken Bliss.

So He With Difficulty And Labour Hard Mov'd On, With Difficulty And Labour He.

The Rising World Of Waters Dark And Deep.

Athens, The Eye Of Greece, Mother Of Arts And Eloquence.

It Was From Out The Rind Of One Apple Tasted, That The Knowledge Of Good And Evil, As Two Twins Cleaving Together, Leaped Forth Into The World.

Rather Than Be Less Car'd Not To Be At All.

The Winds With Wonder Whist, Smoothly The Waters Kisst.

There Is No Christian Duty That Is Not To Be Seasoned And Set Off With Cheerishness, Which In A Thousand Outward And Intermitting Crosses May Yet Be Done Well, As In This Vale Of Tears.

The Wife, Where Danger Or Dishonour Lurks, Safest And Seemliest By Her Husband Stays, Who Guards Her, Or With Her The Worst Endures.

Be Strong, Live Happy And Love, But First Of All Him Whom To Love Is To Obey, And Keep His Great Command!

For Contemplation He And Valour Formed; / For Softness She And Sweet Attractive Grace, / He For God Only, She For God In Him: / His Fair Large Front And Eye Sublime Declared / Absolute Rule.

So Many Laws Argues So Many Sins.

Nor Think Thou With Wind Of æry Threats To Awe Whom Yet With Deeds Thou Canst Not.

The Brazen Throat Of War.

And Now The Herald Lark Left His Ground-nest, High Tow'ring To Descry The Morn's Approach, And Greet Her With His Song.

For So I Created Them Free And Free They Must Remain.

Time, Though In Eternity, Applied To Motion, Measures All Things Durable By Present, Past, And Future.

Have Hung My Dank And Dropping Weeds To The Stern God Of Sea.

He Who Tempts, Though In Vain, At Last Asperses The Tempted With Dishonor Foul, Supposed Not Incorruptible Of Faith, Not Proof Against Temptation.

If Weakness May Excuse, What Murderer, What Traitor, Parricide, Incestuous, Sacrilegious, But May Plead It? All Wickedness Is Weakness; That Plea, Therefore, With God Or Man Will Gain Thee No Remission.

But Pain Is Perfect Misery, The Worst Of Evils, And Excessive, Overturns All Patience.

Apostate, Still Thou Err'st, Nor End Wilt Find Offering, From The Paths Of Truth Remote.

On The Morning Of Christ's Nativity Perhaps Their Loves, Or Else Their Sheep, Was All That Did Their Silly Thoughts So Busy Keep.

Cyriack, Whose Grandsire On The Royal Bench Of British Themis, With No Mean Applause Pronounced And In His Volumes Taught Our Laws, Which Others At Their Bar So Often Wrench

Where More Is Meant Than Meets The Ear.

Where There Is Much Desire To Learn, There Of Necessity Will Be Much Arguing, Much Writing, For Opinion In Good Men Is But Knowledge In The Making.

To Live A Life Half Dead, A Living Death.

Nothing Lovelier Can Be Found In Woman, Than To Study Household Good, And Good Works In Her Husband To Promote.

My Mansion Is, Where Those Immortal Shapes Of Bright Aerial Spirits Live Insphered In Regions Mild Of Calm And Serene Air, Above The Smoke And Stir Of This Dim Spot Which Men Call Earth.

And Pomp, And Feast, And Revelry, With Mask, And Antique Pageantry, Such Sights As Youthful Poets Dream On Summer Eves By Haunted Stream.

Should God Create Another Eve, And I Another Rib Afford, Yet Loss Of Thee Would Never From My Heart; No No, I Feel The Link Of Nature Draw Me: Flesh Of Flesh, Bone Of My Bone Thou Art, And From Thy State Mine Never Shall Be Parted, Bliss Or Woe.

Bid Amaranthus All His Beauty Shed, And Daffodillies Fill Their Cups With Tears, To Strew The Laureate To Hearse When Lycid Lies.

The Helmed Cherubim, And Sworded Seraphim, Are Seen In Glittering Ranks With Wings Display'd.

Man Hath His Daily Work Of Body Or Mind Appointed.

A Broad And Ample Road, Whose Dust Is Gold, And Pavement Stars,--as Stars To Thee Appear Seen In The Galaxy, That Milky Way Which Nightly As A Circling Zone Thou Seest Powder'd With Stars.

Seas Wept From Our Deep Sorrows.

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