Spirits that live throughout, Vital in every part, not as frail man, In entrails, heart or head, liver or reins, Cannot but by annihilating die.

The martyrs shook the powers of darkness with the irresistible power of weakness.

I sung of Chaos and Eternal Night, Taught by the heav'nly Muse to venture down The dark descent, and up to reascend.

Sweet bird, that shun the noise of folly, most musical, most melancholy!

For evil news rides post, while good news baits.

The leaf was darkish, and had prickles on it, But in another country, as he said, Bore a bright golden flow'r, but not in this soil; Unknown, and like esteem'd, and the dull swain Treads on it daily with his clouted shoon.

The sun to me is dark And silent as the moon, When she deserts the night Hid in her vacant interlunar cave.