Meadows trim with daisies pied, Shallow brooks and rivers wide Towers and battlements it sees Bosom'd high in tufted trees, Where perhaps some beauty lies, The cynosure of neighboring eyes.

I sung of Chaos and Eternal Night, Taught by the heav'nly Muse to venture down The dark descent, and up to reascend.

One sip of this will bathe the drooping spirits in delight, beyond the bliss of dreams.

What is strength without a double share of wisdom?

Grace was in all her steps, heaven in her eye, in every gesture dignity and love.

Reason also is choice.

Ease would recant Vows made in pain, as violent and void.