Hence, loathèd Melancholy, Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born, In Stygian cave forlorn, 'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights unholy.
Lifted up so high I disdained subjection, and thought one step higher would set me highest.
Sweet bird, that shun the noise of folly, most musical, most melancholy!
Satan; so call him now, his former name Is heard no more in heaven.
In contemplation of created things, by steps we may ascend to God.
And to the faithful: death, the gate of life.