And may at last my weary age Find out the peaceful hermitage, The hairy gown and mossy cell, Where I may sit and rightly spell Of every star that heaven doth shew, And every herb that sips the dew, Till old experience to attain To something like prophetic strain.

For contemplation he and valour formed; / For softness she and sweet attractive grace, / He for God only, she for God in him: / His fair large front and eye sublime declared / Absolute rule.

It was that fatal and perfidious bark, Built in th' eclipse, and rigg'd with curses dark.

His form had yet not lost All her original brightness, nor appear'd Less than archangel ruin'd, and th' excess Of glory obscur'd.

Justice divine Mends not her slowest pace for prayers or cries.

For neither man nor angel can discern hypocrisy, the only evil that walks invisible, except to God alone.

Hail, wedded love, mysterious law; true source of human happiness.