Justice Divine Mends Not Her Slowest Pace

The Wife, Where Danger Or Dishonour Lurks, Safest And Seemliest By Her Husband Stays, Who Guards Her, Or With Her The Worst Endures.

But Who Is This, What Thing Of Sea Or Land,- Female Of Sex It Seems,- That So Bedeck'd, Ornate, And Gay, Comes This Way Sailing Like A Stately Ship Of Tarsus, Bound For Th' Isles Of Javan Or Gadire, With All Her Bravery On, And Tackle Trim, Sails Fill'd, And Streamers Waving, Courted By All The Winds That Hold Them Play, An Amber Scent Of Odorous Perfume Her Harbinger?

Cedar, And Pine, And Fir, And Branching Palm, A Sylvan Scene, And As The Ranks Ascend Shade Above Shade, A Woody Theatre Of Stateliest View.

For Men To Tell How Human Life Began Is Hard; For Who Himself Beginning Knew?

[rhyme Is] But The Invention Of A Barbarous Age, To Set Off Wretched Matter And Lame Meter; ... Not Without Cause Therefore Some Both Italian And Spanish Poets Of Prime Note Have Rejected Rhyme, ... As Have Also Long Since Our Best English Tragedies, As... Trivial And Of No True Musical Delight; Which [truly] Consists Only In Apt Numbers, Fit Quantity Of Syllables, And The Sense Variously Drawn Out From One Verse Into Another, Not In The Jingling Sound Of Like Endings, A Fault Avoided By The Learned Ancients Both In Poetry And All Good Oratory.