So scented the grim Feature, and upturn'd His nostril wide into the murky air, Sagacious of his quarry from so far.

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.

It is Chastity, my brother. She that has that is clad in complete steel.

This horror will grow mild, this darkness light.

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.

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.

Athens, the eye of Greece, mother of arts And eloquence.