Govern well thy appetite, lest Sin surprise thee, and her black attendant Death.

These evils I deserve, and more . . . . Justly, yet despair not of his final pardon, Whose ear is ever open, and his eye Gracious to re-admit the suppliant.

But see! theVirgin blessed Hath laid her Babe to rest. Time is our tedious song should here have ending.

And, when night Darkens the streets, then wander forth the sons Of Belial, flown with insolence and wine.

I sung of Chaos and Eternal Night, Taught by the heav'nly Muse to venture down The dark descent, and up to reascend.

Good luck befriend thee, Son; for at thy birth The fairy ladies danced upon the hearth.

Awake, arise or be for ever fall’n.