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

Solitude is sometimes best society.

The Angel ended, and in Adam's ear So charming left his voice, that he awhile Thought him still speaking, still stood fix'd to hear.

They who have put out the people's eyes reproach them of their blindness.

Immortal amarant, a flower which once In paradise, fast by the tree of life, Began to bloom; but soon for man's offence To heaven removed, where first it grew, there grows, And flowers aloft, shading the fount of life, And where the river of bliss through midst of heaven Rolls o'er elysian flowers her amber stream: With these that never fade the spirits elect Bind their resplendent locks.

His rod revers'd, And backward mutters of dissevering power.

Accuse not nature: she hath done her part; Do thou but thine.