A mighty maze! But not without a plan.
They dream in courtship, but in wedlock wake.
Wholesome solitude, the nurse of sense!
For thee I dim these eye and stuff this head With all such reading as was never read.
Here hills and vales, the woodland and the plain Here earth and water seem to strive again, Not chaos-like together crushed and bruised, But, as the world, harmoniously confused: Where order in variety we see, And where, though all things differ, all agree.
Vice is a monster of so frightful mien As to be hated needs but to be seen; Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face, We first endure, then pity, then embrace.