Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail Or knock the breast, no weakness, no contempt, Dispraise, or blame,-nothing but well and fair, And what may quiet us in a death so noble.

A good principle not rightly understood may prove as hurtful as a bad.

Let us no more contend, nor blame each other, blamed enough elsewhere, but strive, In offices of love, how we may lighten each other's burden.

Death Grinn'd horrible a ghastly smile, to hear His famine should be fill'd.

Now morn, her rosy steps in th' eastern clime Advancing, sow'd the earth with orient pearl, When Adam wak'd, so custom'd; for his sleep Was aery light, from pure digestion bred.

Contemplation is wisdom's best nurse.

And storied windows richly dight, Casting a dim religious light.