Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould Breathe such divine enchanting ravishment?

Rhime being no necessary Adjunct or true Ornament of Poem or good Verse, in longer Works especially, but the Invention of a barbarous Age, to set off wretched matter and lame Meeter...the troublesom and modern bondage of Rimeing.

That power Which erring men call Chance.

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.

Arm the obdured breast with stubborn patience as with triple steel.

Sabrina fair, Listen where thou art sitting Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave, In twisted braids of lilies knitting The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair.

Him that yon soars on golden wing, guiding the fiery-wheelèd throne, the Cherub Contemplation.