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Rouse to some work of high and holy love,And thou an angel's happiness shalt know.

Up, then, with speed, and work;Fling ease and self away—This is no time for thee to sleep—Up, watch, and work, and pray!

The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces,The solemn temples, the great globe itself,Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,And, like this unsubstantial pageant faded,Leave not a rack behind.

And can eternity belong to me,Poor pensioner on the bounties of an hour?

The man recovered of the bite.The dog it was that died.