Scatter plenty o'er a smiling land.

Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray; Along the cool sequester'd vale of life They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.

Each in his narrow cell forever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.

There are certain scenes that would awe an atheist into belief, without the help of other argument.

If the best man's faults were written on his forehead, he would draw his hat over his eyes.

And truth severe, by fairy fiction drest.

One principal characteristic of vice in the present age is the contempt of fame.