Him that yon soars on golden wing, guiding the fiery-wheelèd throne, the Cherub Contemplation.
It is not good that man should be alone. ... Hitherto all things that have been named, were approved of God to be very good: loneliness is the first thing which God's eye named not good: whether it be a thing, or the want of something, I labour not.
Abashed the devil stood and felt how awful goodness is and saw Virtue in her shape how lovely: and pined his loss
So dear to Heaven is saintly chastity, That, when a soul is found sincerely so, A thousand liveried angels lacky her, Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt.
To adore the conqueror, who now beholds Cherub and seraph rolling in the flood.
I will point ye out the right path of a virtuous and noble Education; laborious indeed at first ascent, but else so smooth, so green, so full of goodly prospect, and melodious sounds on every side, that the harp of Orpheus was not more charming.
See golden days, fruitful of golden deeds, With joy and love triumphing.
Wickedness is weakness.
These two imparadised in one another's arms, the happier Eden, shall enjoy their fill of bliss on bliss.
By labor and intent study (which I take to be my portion in this life), joined with the strong propensity of nature, I might perhaps leave something so written to after-times, as they should not willingly let it die.
Her virtue and the conscience of her worth, That would be woo'd, and not unsought be won.
Ladies, whose bright eyes Rain influence, and judge the prize.
Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail Or knock the breast, no weakness, no contempt, Dispraise, or blame,-nothing but well and fair, And what may quiet us in a death so noble.
Law can discover sin, but not remove, Save by those shadowy expiations weak.
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.
Come knit hands, and beat the ground in a light fantastic round
Hope allows us to bid farewell to fear.
Time is the subtle thief of youth.
Virtue hath no tongue to check vice's pride.
Hail, wedded love, mysterious law; true source of human happiness.
Let us go forth and resolutely dare with sweat of brow to toil our little day.
God has set labor and rest, as day and night to men successive.
The oracles are dumb, No voice or hideous hum Runs thro' the arched roof in words deceiving.
What reinforcement we may gain from hope; If not, what resolution from despair.
Who would not, finding way, break loose from hell, . . . . And boldly venture to whatever place Farthest from pain?
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