Oh yet we trust that somehow good

Will be the final goal of ill.

Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892): In Memoriam. liv. Stanza 1.

Th' ethereal mould

Incapable of stain would soon expel

Her mischief, and purge off the baser fire,

Victorious. Thus repuls'd, our final hope

Is flat despair.

John Milton (1608-1674): Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 139.

Stern Ruin's ploughshare drives elate

Full on thy bloom.

Robert Burns (1759-1796): To a Mountain Daisy.

Final Ruin fiercely drives

Her ploughshare o'er creation.

Edward Young (1684-1765): Night Thoughts. Night ix. Line 167.