O Fleeting Joys Of Paradise, Dear Bought

If This Fail, The Pillar'd Firmament Is Rottenness, And Earth's Base Built On Stubble.

Our Country Is Where Ever We Are Well Off.

It Is Chastity, My Brother. She That Has That Is Clad In Complete Steel.

He Scarce Had Ceased When The Superior Fiend Was Moving Toward The Shore; His Ponderous Shield Ethereal Temper, Massy, Large And Round, Behind Him Cast; The Broad Circumference Hung On His Shoulders Like The Moon, Whose Orb Through Optic Glass The Tuscan Artist Views At Evening From The Top Of Fésolè, Or In Valdarno, To Descry New Lands, Rivers Or Mountains In Her Spotty Globe.

Th' Imperial Ensign, Which Full High Advanc'd Shone Like A Meteor, Streaming To The Wind.