Anarchy is the sure consequence of tyranny; for no power that is not limited by laws can ever be protected by them.
Where no hope is left, is left no fear.
Hail, wedded love, mysterious law; true source of human happiness.
To adore the conqueror, who now beholds Cherub and seraph rolling in the flood.
Be strong, live happy and love, but first of all Him whom to love is to obey, and keep His great command!
He who would not be frustrate of his hope to write well hereafter in laudable things ought himself to be a true poem.
Now came still evening on; and twilight gray Had in her sober livery all things clad: Silence accompanied; for beast and bird, They to they grassy couch, these to their nests, Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale.
A complete and generous education fits a man to perform justly, skillfully, and magnanimously all the offices, both public and private, of peace and war.
Therefore God’s universal law Gave to the man despotic power Over his female in due awe, Not from that right to part an hour, Smile she or lour.
But O yet more miserable! Myself my sepulchre, a moving grave.
O nightingale, that on yon bloomy spray Warblest at eve, when all the woods are still; Thou with fresh hope the lover’s heart dost fill While the jolly hours lead on propitious May.
Rich and various gems inlay The unadorned bosom of the deep.
His spear, to equal which the tallest pine Hewn on Norwegian hills to be the mast Of some great ammiral were but a wand, He walk’d with to support uneasy steps Over the burning marle.
Let us no more contend, nor blame each other, blamed enough elsewhere, but strive, In offices of love, how we may lighten each other’s burden.
Mutual love, the crown of all our bliss.
Let us go forth and resolutely dare with sweat of brow to toil our little day.
The olive grove of Academe, Plato’s retirement, where the Attic bird Trills her thick-warbled notes the summer long.
Perplexed and troubled at his bad success The Tempter stood, nor had what to reply, Discovered in his fraud, thrown from his hope.
Swinish gluttony never looks to heaven amidst its gorgeous feast; but with besotted, base ingratitude, cravens and blasphemes his feeder.
Where more is meant than meets the ear.