O! what's a table richly spread

All human race, from China to Peru, Pleasure, howe’er disguis’d by art, pursue.

Ye fetted pinnacles, ye fanes sublime, Ye towers that wear the mossy vest of time; Ye massy piles of old munificence, At once the pride of learning and defence; Ye cloisters pale, that, lengthening to the sight, To contemplation, step by …

We are apt to form romantic and exaggerated notions about the moral innocence of our ancestors. Ages of ignorance and simplicity are thought to be ages of purity. The direct contrary, I believe, is the case...In the middle ages, not only …

Nor rough, nor barren, are the winding ways Of hoar antiquity, but strown with flowers.

The scene was changed. It was a bark that slowly held its way, And o'er its lee the coast of France in the light of evening lay; And on its deck a lady sat, who gazed with tearful eyes Upon the fast receding hills that dim and distant rise.

So All is diff’rent, and yet All is One.