John Milton

If all the world
Should in a pet of temp'rance, feed on pulse,
Drink the clear stream, read more

If all the world
Should in a pet of temp'rance, feed on pulse,
Drink the clear stream, and nothing wear but frieze,
Th' All-giver would be unthank'd, would be unprais'd.

Luck is the residue of design.

Luck is the residue of design.

The planets in their station list'ning stood.

The planets in their station list'ning stood.

So glistered the dire Snake, and into fraud
Led Eve, our credulous mother, to the Tree
Of read more

So glistered the dire Snake, and into fraud
Led Eve, our credulous mother, to the Tree
Of Prohibition, root of all our woe.

But his zeal
None seconded, as out of season judged,
Or singular and rash.

But his zeal
None seconded, as out of season judged,
Or singular and rash.