From henceforth thou shalt learn that there is loveTo long for, pureness to desire, a mountOf consecration it were good to scale.
Divine Love came down to take on itself our sins, but there is no Saviour to do the like for our mistakes. Sarah de Berenger: A Novel (1879)
The while He sits whose name is Love,And waits, as Noah did, for the dove,To wit if she would fly to him. Poems (1863)
[U]gliness of the right sort is a kind of beauty. It has some of the best qualities of beauty—it attracts observation and fixes the memory. Off the Skelligs: A Novel (1872)