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

This horror will grow mild, this darkness light.

Beholding the bright countenance of truth in the quiet and still air of delightful studies.

More safe I sing with mortal voice, unchang'd To hoarse or mute, though fall'n on evil days, On evil days though fall'n, and evil tongues.

He that can apprehend and consider vice with all her baits and seeming pleasures, and yet abstain, and yet distinguish, and yet prefer that which is truly better, he is the true wayfaring Christian. I cannot praise a fugitive and cloistered virtue, unexercised and unbreathed, that never sallies out and sees her adversary, but slinks out of the race, where that immortal garland is to be run for, not without dust and heat. Assuredly we bring not innocence into the world, we bring impurity much rather: that which purifies us is trial, and trial is by what is contrary.

Ask for this great deliverer now, and find him Eyeless in Gaza at the mill with slaves.

It was that fatal and perfidious bark, Built in th' eclipse, and rigg'd with curses dark.