Hail, wedded love, mysterious law; true source of human happiness.

God is thy law, thou mine.

Ev'n them who kept thy truth so pure of old, When all our fathers worshipp'd stocks and stones.

In argument with men a woman ever Goes by the worse, whatever be her cause.

They, looking back, all the eastern side beheld Of Paradise, so late their happy seat, Waved over by that flaming brand, the gate With dreadful faces thronged and fiery arms: Some natural tears they dropped, but wiped them soon; The world was all before them, where to choose Their place of rest, and Providence their guide; They, hand in hand, with wandering steps and slow, Through Eden took their solitary way.

Socrates... Whom well inspir'd the oracle pronounc'd Wisest of men.

And add to these retired Leisure, That in trim gardens take his pleasure.