This horror will grow mild, this darkness light.

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.

Midnight shout and revelry, Tipsy dance and jollity.

How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth, stolen on his wing my three-and-twentieth year!

Neither prosperity nor empire nor heaven can be worth winning at the price of a virulent temper, bloody hands, an anguished spirit, and a vain hatred of the rest of the world.

A grateful mind/ By owing owes not, but still pays, at once/ Indebted and discharg'd.

Death from sin no power can separate.