What hath night to do with sleep?
For what is glory but the blaze of fame?
It was the winter wild, While the Heaven-born child, All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies.
My sentence is for open war.
A boundless continent, Dark, waste, and wild, under the frown of night Starless expos'd.
They who have put out the people's eyes reproach them of their blindness.