More safe I sing with mortal voice, unchang'd To hoarse or mute, though fall'n on evil days, On evil days though fall'n, and evil tongues.
From restless thoughts, that, like a deadly swarm Of hornets arm'd, no sooner found alone, But rush upon me thronging.
He 's gone, and who knows how he may report Thy words by adding fuel to the flame?
Death Grinn'd horrible a ghastly smile, to hear His famine should be fill'd.
The mountain nymph, sweet Liberty.
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.