It was the winter wild, While the Heaven-born child, All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies.

The first and wisest of them all professed To know this only, that he nothing knew.

He who reigns within himself and rules passions, desires, and fears is more than a king.

Calm of mind, all passion spent.

There are no songs comparable to the songs of Zion, no orations equal to those of the prophets, and no politics like those which the Scriptures teach.

Wisdom's self oft seeks to sweet retired solitude, where with her best nurse Contemplation, she plumes her feathers, and lets grow her wings that in the various bustle of resort were all to-ruffled, and sometimes impaired.

From haunted spring and dale Edg'd with poplar pale The parting genius is with sighing sent.