Apostate, Still Thou Err'st, Nor

Bacchus, That First From Out The Purple Grape Crush'd The Sweet Poison Of Misused Wine.

She What Was Honour Knew, And With Obsequious Majesty Approv'd My Pleaded Reason. To The Nuptial Bower I Led Her Blushing Like The Morn; All Heaven And Happy Constellations On That Hour Shed Their Selectest Influence; The Earth Gave Sign Of Gratulation, And Each Hill; Joyous The Birds; Fresh Gales And Gentle Airs Whisper'd It To The Woods, And From Their Wings Flung Rose, Flung Odours From The Spicy Shrub.

Freely They Stood Who Stood, And Fell Who Fell.

Where There Is Much Desire To Learn, There Of Necessity Will Be Much Arguing, Much Writing, For Opinion In Good Men Is But Knowledge In The Making.

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