O loss of sight, of thee I most complain! Blind among enemies, O worse than chains, dungeon or beggary, or decrepit age! Light, the prime work of God, to me is extinct, and all her various objects of delight annulled, which might in part my grief have eased. Inferior to the vilest now become of man or worm; the vilest here excel me, they creep, yet see; I, dark in light, exposed to daily fraud, contempt, abuse and wrong, within doors, or without, still as a fool, in power of others, never in my own; scarce half I seem to live, dead more than half.

So dear I love him, that with him, all deaths I could endure, without him, live no life.

Among unequals what society Can sort, what harmony, or true delight?

He 's gone, and who knows how he may report Thy words by adding fuel to the flame?

Sweet intercourse of looks and smiles; for smiles from reason flow.

Nothing profits more than self-esteem, grounded on what is just and right.

O sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams That bring to my remembrance from what state I fell, how glorious once above thy sphere.