Opinion in good men is but knowledge in the making.

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

Come, pensive nun, devout and pure, sober steadfast, and demure, all in a robe of darkest grain, flowing with majestic train.

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

Imparadis'd in one another's arms.

Pandemonium, the high capital Of Satan and his peers.

Beholding the bright countenance of truth in the quiet and still air of delightful studies.