Come knit hands, and beat the ground in a light fantastic round
Every cloud has a silver lining.
That power Which erring men call Chance.
Justice divine Mends not her slowest pace for prayers or cries.
The world was all before them, where to choose Their place of rest, and Providence their guide: They hand in hand, with wandering steps and slow, Through Eden took their solitary way.
Oh, shame to men! devil with devil damn'd Firm concord holds, men only disagree Of creatures rational.