But peaceful was the night Wherein the Prince of Light His reign of peace upon the earth began.

With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head, And every flower that sad embroidery wears.

Our torments also may in length of time Become our Elements.

I sung of Chaos and Eternal Night, Taught by the heav'nly Muse to venture down The dark descent, and up to reascend.

Is it true, O Christ in heaven, that the highest suffer the most? That the strongest wander furthest and most hopelessly are lost? That the mark of rank in nature is capacity for pain? That the anguish of the singer makes the sweetness of the strain?

Immediate are the acts of God, more swift than time or motion.

Neither prosperity nor empire nor heaven can be worth winning at the price of a virulent temper, bloody hands, an anguished spirit, and a vain hatred of the rest of the world.