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

Such as the meeting soul may pierce, In notes with many a winding bout Of linked sweetness long drawn out.

And to the faithful: death, the gate of life.

Midnight brought on the dusky hour Friendliest to sleep and silence.

Virtue that wavers is not virtue, but vice revolted from itself, and after a while returning. The actions of just and pious men do not darken in their middle course.

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

Love Virtue, she alone is free, She can teach ye how to climb Higher than the sphery chime; Or, if Virtue feeble were, Heav'n itself would stoop to her.