But who is this, what thing of sea or land,- Female of sex it seems,- That so bedeck'd, ornate, and gay, Comes this way sailing Like a stately ship Of Tarsus, bound for th' isles Of Javan or Gadire, With all her bravery on, and tackle trim, Sails fill'd, and streamers waving, Courted by all the winds that hold them play, An amber scent of odorous perfume Her harbinger?

God is thy law, thou mine.

Hope allows us to bid farewell to fear.

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

Into this wild abyss, The womb of Nature and perhaps her grave.

Reason is also choice.

Opinion in good men is but knowledge in the making.