Pleas'd me, long choosing and beginning late.

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

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

The stars, that nature hung in heaven, and filled their lamps with everlasting oil, give due light to the misled and lonely traveller.

Deep vers'd in books, and shallow in himself.

Thus Belial, with words clothed in reason's garb, counseled ignoble ease, and peaceful sloth, not peace.

This horror will grow mild, this darkness light.