The great Emathian conqueror bid spare The house of Pindarus, when temple and tower Went to the ground.

O fairest of creation, last and best Of all God's works, creature in whom excelled Whatever can to sight or thought be formed, Holy, divine, good, amiable, or sweet! How art thou lost, how on a sudden lost, Defaced, deflow'red, and now to death devote? Paradise Lost

In dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds On half the nations, and with fear of change Perplexes monarchs.

I will point ye out the right path of a virtuous and noble Education; laborious indeed at first ascent, but else so smooth, so green, so full of goodly prospect, and melodious sounds on every side, that the harp of Orpheus was not more charming.

Good luck befriend thee, Son; for at thy birth The fairy ladies danced upon the hearth.

Calm of mind, all passion spent.

Sport, that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides. Come and trip it as ye go, On the light fantastic toe.