I sung of Chaos and Eternal Night, Taught by the heav'nly Muse to venture down The dark descent, and up to reascend.
Where no hope is left, is left no fear.
Our torments also may in length of time Become our Elements.
Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise
With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head, And every flower that sad embroidery wears.
Hail holy light, offspring of heav'n firstborn!