So On This Windy Sea Of Land,

How Often From The Steep Of Echoing Hill Or Thicket Have We Heard Celestial Voices To The Midnight Air, Sole, Or Responsive Each To Other's Note, Singing Their Great Creator?

Must I Thus Leave Thee, Paradise?-thus Leave Thee, Native Soil, These Happy Walks And Shades?

His Words, Like So Many Nimble And Airy Servitors, Trip About Him At Command. Ibid.

Joking Decides Great Things, Stronger And Better Oft Than Earnest Can.

With Ruin Upon Ruin, Rout On Rout, Confusion Worse Confounded.