Virtue that wavers is not virtue, but vice revolted from itself, and after a while returning. The actions of just and pious men do not darken in their middle course.
Apt words have power to suage the tumors of a troubled mind.
His rod revers'd, And backward mutters of dissevering power.
Hard are the ways of truth, and rough to walk.
Beyond is all abyss, eternity, whose end no eye can reach.
So scented the grim Feature, and upturn'd His nostril wide into the murky air, Sagacious of his quarry from so far.