These are thy glorious works, Parent of good!

For other things mild Heav'n a time ordains, And disapproves that care, though wise in show, That with superfluous burden loads the day, And when God sends a cheerful hour, refrains.

Thus with the year Seasons return; but not to me returns Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn, Or sight of vernal bloom or summer's rose, Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine; But cloud instead, and ever-during dark Surrounds me; from the cheerful ways of men Cut off, and for the book of knowledge fair Presented with a universal blank Of Nature's works, to me expung'd and raz'd, And wisdom at one entrance quite shut out.

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

Truth is as impossible to be soiled by any outward touch as the sunbeam.

The great Emathian conqueror bid spare The house of Pindarus, when temple and tower Went to the ground.

Sable-vested Night, eldest of things.