With Ruin Upon Ruin, Rout On Rout,

Knowledge Cannot Defile, Nor Consequently The Books, If The Will And Conscience Be Not Defiled.

Nor From Hell One Step No More Than From Himself Can Fly By Change Of Place.

Beholding The Bright Countenance Of Truth In The Quiet And Still Air Of Delightful Studies.

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

They, Looking Back, All The Eastern Side Beheld Of Paradise, So Late Their Happy Seat, Waved Over By That Flaming Brand, The Gate With Dreadful Faces Thronged And Fiery Arms: Some Natural Tears They Dropped, But Wiped Them Soon; 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.