Innumerable as the stars of night, Or stars of morning, dewdrops which the sun Impearls on every leaf and every flower.

As children gath'ring pebbles on the shore. Or if I would delight my private hours With music or with poem, where so soon As in our native language can I find That solace?

Let her (Truth) and Falsehood grapple; who ever knew Truth put to the worse in a free and open encounter?

'Paradise Lost' is one of the books which the reader admires and lays down, and forgets to take up again. None ever wished it longer than it is.

Ah, why should all mankind For one man's fault, be condemned, If guiltless?

Beauty stands In the admiration only of weak minds Led captive.

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.