The Starry Cope Of Heaven.

Wealth And Honours, Which Most Men Pursue, Easily Change Masters; They Desert To The Side Which Excels In Virtue, Industry, And Endurance Of Toil, And They Abandon The Slothful.

The Best Apology Against False Accusers Is Silence.

But Let My Due Feet Never Fail To Walk The Studious Cloisters Pale, And Love The High Embowed Roof, With Antique Pillars Massy Proof, And Storied Windows Richly Dight; Casting A Dim Religious Light.

Spirits That Live Throughout, Vital In Every Part, Not As Frail Man, In Entrails, Heart Or Head, Liver Or Reins, Cannot But By Annihilating Die.

Yet I Argue Not Against Heav'n's Hand Or Will, Nor Bate A Jot Of Heart Or Hope; But Still Bear Up And Steer Right Onward.