Confusion heard his voice, and wild uproar Stood ruled, stood vast infinitude confined; Till at his second bidding darkness fled, Light shone, and order from disorder sprung.

Let none admire that riches grow in hell; that soil may best deserve the precious bane.

Hide me from day's garish eye.

What is dark within me, illumine.

A short retirement urges a sweet return.

He touch'd the tender stops of various quills, With eager thought warbling his Doric lay.

My sentence is for open war.