But oh the heavy change, now thou art gone, Now thou art gone and never must return!

Truth is compared in Scripture to a streaming fountain; if her waters flow not in perpetual progression, they sicken into a muddy pool of conformity and tradition.

Seas wept from our deep sorrows.

Yet beauty, though injurious, hath strange power, After offence returning, to regain Love once possess'd.

Nor aught availed him now to have built in heaven high towers; nor did he scrape by all his engines, but was headlong sent with his industrious crew to build in hell.

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

They eat, they drink, and in communion sweet Quaff immortality and joy.