God Is Thy Law, Thou Mine: To

Seasoned Life Of Man Preserved And Stored Up In Books.

Where No Hope Is Left, Is Left No Fear.

What Neat Repast Shall Feast Us, Light And Choice, Of Attic Taste?

So Sinks The Day-star In The Ocean Bed, And Yet Anon Repairs His Drooping Head, And Tricks His Beams, And With New-spangled Ore Flames In The Forehead Of The Morning Sky.

For Evil News Rides Post, While Good News Baits.