The devil was sick, the devil a saint would be;
The devil was well, the devil a saint was he.
546
RABELAIS: _Works,_ Bk. iv., Ch. xxiv.


=Devotion.=

As down in the sunless retreats of the ocean
Sweet flowers are springing no mortal can see,
So deep in my soul the still prayer of devotion
Unheard by the world, rises silent to Thee.
517
MOORE: _As Down in the Sunless Retreats._


=Dew.=

What gentle ghost, besprent with April dew,
Hails me so solemnly to yonder yew?
548
BEN JONSON: _Elegy on the Lady Jane Pawlet._


=Dial.=

True as the dial to the sun,
Although it be not shin'd upon.
549
BUTLER: _Hudibras,_ Pt. iii., Canto ii., Line 175.