And Looks Commercing With The

Come, Pensive Nun, Devout And Pure, Sober Steadfast, And Demure, All In A Robe Of Darkest Grain, Flowing With Majestic Train.

Death Ready Stands To Interpose His Dart.

Or If Virtue Feeble Were, Heav'n Itself Would Stoop To Her.

Nor Aught Availed Him Now To Have Built In Heaven High Towers; Nor Did He Scrape By All His Engines, But Was Headlong Sent With His Industrious Crew To Build In Hell.

The Hungry Sheep Look Up, And Are Not Fed.