The timely dew of sleep.

Hard are the ways of truth, and rough to walk.

For contemplation he and valour formed; / For softness she and sweet attractive grace, / He for God only, she for God in him: / His fair large front and eye sublime declared / Absolute rule.

Such as the meeting soul may pierce, In notes with many a winding bout Of linked sweetness long drawn out.

The gay motes that people the sunbeams.

Heaven is for thee too high To know what passes there; be lowly wise. Think only what concerns thee and thy being; Dream not of other worlds, what creatures there Live, in what state, condition, or degree, Contented that thus far hath been revealed.

The nodding horror of whose shady brows Threats the forlorn and wandering passenger.