Incens'd with indignation Satan stood Unterrify'd, and like a comet burn'd That fires the length of Ophiuchus huge In th' arctic sky, and from his horrid hair Shakes pestilence and war.

So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore Flames in the forehead of the morning sky.

Heaven is for thee too high To know what passes there; be lowly wise. Think only what concerns thee and thy being; Dream not of other worlds, what creatures there Live, in what state, condition, or degree, Contented that thus far hath been revealed.

Mutual love, the crown of all our bliss.

Long is the way and hard, that out of hell leads up to light.

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

What neat repast shall feast us, light and choice, Of Attic taste?