Virtue could see to do what virtue would

By her own radiant light, though sun and moon

Were in the flat sea sunk. And Wisdom's self

Oft seeks to sweet retired solitude,

Where with her best nurse Contemplation

She plumes her feathers and lets grow her wings,

That in the various bustle of resort

Were all-to ruffled, and sometimes impair'd.

He that has light within his own clear breast

May sit i' th' centre and enjoy bright day;

But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts

Benighted walks under the midday sun.

John Milton (1608-1674): Comus. Line 373.

No radiant pearl which crested Fortune wears,

No gem that twinkling hangs from Beauty's ears,

Not the bright stars which Night's blue arch adorn,

Nor rising suns that gild the vernal morn,

Shine with such lustre as the tear that flows

Down Virtue's manly cheek for others' woes.

Erasmus Darwin (1731-1802): The Botanic Garden. Part ii. Canto iii. Line 459.