Robert Southey

The march of intellect.

The laws are with us, and God on our side.

They sin who tell us love can die; With life all other passions fly, All others are but vanity. . . . . . Love is indestructible, Its holy flame forever burneth; From heaven it came, to heaven returneth. . . . . . It soweth here with toil and care, But the harvest-time of love is there.

Through moss and through brake.

Oh, when a mother meets on high The babe she lost in infancy, Hath she not then for pains and fears, The day of woe, the watchful night, For all her sorrow, all her tears, An over-payment of delight?

Would you who judge of the lawfulness or unlawfulness of pleasure, take this rule; whatever weakens your reason, impairs the tenderness of your conscience, obscures your sense of God, or takes off the relish of spiritual things; in short; whatever increases the strength and authority of your body over your mind, that is sin to you; however innocent it may be in itself.

He passed a cottage with a double coach-house, A cottage of gentility! And he owned with a grin That his favourite sin Is pride that apes humility.

So I told them in rhyme, For of rhymes I had store.

The Satanic school.

A sight to delight in.