Ere the blabbing eastern scout, The nice morn, on th' Indian steep From her cabin'd loop-hole peep.

Deep vers'd in books, and shallow in himself.

Evil, be thou my good.

He left it in thy power, ordaind thy will By nature free, not over-rul'd by Fate Inextricable, or strict necessity.

Truth is as impossible to be soiled by any outward touch as the sunbeam.

True it is that covetousness is rich, modesty starves.

So hand in hand they passed, the loveliest pair that ever since in love's embraces met -- Adam, the goodliest man of men since born his sons; the fairest of her daughters Eve.