What nothing earthly gives or can destroy,--
The soul's calm sunshine, and the heartfelt joy,
Is Virtue's prize.
_Essay on Man, Epistle IV_. A. POPE.

Virtue, not rolling suns, the mind matures,
That life is long, which answers life's great end.
The time that bears no fruit, deserves no name.
_Night Thoughts, Night V_. DR. E. YOUNG.

Good, the more
Communicated, more abundant grows.
_Paradise Lost, Bk. V_. MILTON.

Her virtue and the conscience of her worth,
That would be wooed, and not unsought be won.
_Paradise Lost, Bk. VIII_. MILTON.

Know then this truth (enough for man to know),
"Virtue alone is happiness below."
_Essay on Man, Epistle IV_. A. POPE.

For blessings ever wait on virtuous deeds;
And though a late, a sure reward succeeds.
_The Mourning Bride, Act v. Sc. 12_. W. CONGREVE.

That virtue only makes our bliss below,
And all our knowledge is, ourselves to know.
_Essay on Man, Epistle IV_. A. POPE.

Pygmies are pygmies still, though perched on Alps;
And pyramids are pyramids in vales.
Each man makes his own stature, builds himself:
Virtue alone outbuilds the Pyramids;
Her monuments shall last when Egypt's fall.
_Night Thoughts, Night VI_. DR. E. YOUNG.

Abashed the devil stood,
And felt how awful goodness is, and saw
Virtue in her shape how lovely.
_Paradise Lost, Bk. IV_. MILTON.

So dear to heaven is saintly chastity,
That, when a soul is found sincerely so,
A thousand liveried angels lacky her,
Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt.
_Comus_. MILTON.

Adieu, dear, amiable youth!
Your heart can ne'er be wanting!
May prudence, fortitude, and truth
Erect your brow undaunting!

In ploughman phrase, "God send you speed,"
Still daily to grow wiser;
And may you better reck the rede,
Than ever did the adviser!
_Epistle to a Young Friend_. R. BURNS.

Though lone the way as that already trod,
Cling to thine own integrity and God!
_To One Deceived_. H.T. TUCKERMAN.

Virtue she finds too painful to endeavor,
Content to dwell in decencies forever.
_Moral Essays, Epistle II_. A. POPE.

Keep virtue's simple path before your eyes,
Nor think from evil good can ever rise.
_Tancred, Act v. Sc. 8_. J. THOMSON.

Count that day lost whose low descending sun
Views from thy hand no worthy action done.
_Staniford's Art of Reading_. ANONYMOUS.

This above all.-