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Into this wild abyss, The womb of Nature and perhaps her grave. MILTON-Paradise Lost. Bk. II. L. 910. Thus with the year Seasons return, but not to me returns Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn, Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose, Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine; But cloud instead, and ever-during dark Surrounds me, from the cheerful ways of men Cut off, and for the book of knowledge fair Presented with a universal blank

Of Nature's works to me expunged and rased, And wisdom at one entrance quite shut out. MILTON-Paradise Lost. Bk. III. L. 40.

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And liquid lapse of murmuring streams. MILTON-Paradise Lost. Bk. VIII. L. 263.

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Accuse not Nature, she hath done her part;
Do thou but thine!

MILTON-Paradise Lost. Bk. VIII. L. 561.

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Let us a little permit Nature to take her own way; she better understands her own affairs than

we.

MONTAIGNE Essays. Experience.

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All are but parts of one stupendous whole,
Whose body Nature is, and God the soul;
That chang'd thro' all, and yet in all the same,
Great in the earth as in th' ethereal frame;
Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze,
Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees;
Lives thro' all life, extends thro' all extent,
Spreads undivided, operates unspent;
Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part,
As full, as perfect, in a hair as heart.

POPE-Essay on Man. Ep. I. L. 267.

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