Virtue could see to do what virtue would By her own radiant light, though sun and moon Were in the flat sea sunk. And Wisdom's self Oft seeks to sweet retired solitude, Where with her best nurse Contemplation She plumes her feathers and lets grow her wings, That in the various bustle of resort Were all-to ruffled, and sometimes impair'd. He that has light within his own clear breast May sit i' th' centre and enjoy bright day; But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts Benighted walks under the midday sun.

Wild above rule or art, enormous bliss.

Which way I fly is Hell; myself am Hell.

So spake the seraph Abdiel, faithful found; Among the faithless, faithful only he.

Who overcomes by force, hath overcome but half his foe.

The rising world of waters dark and deep.

Where no hope is left, is left no fear.