Moping melancholy And moon-struck madness.

Of man's first disobedience, and the fruit/Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste/Brought death into the world, and all our woe,/With loss of Eden, till one greater Man/Restore us, and regain the blissful seat,/Sing heavenly muse

Rocks whereon greatest men have oftest wreck'd.

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

Most men admire Virtue who follow not her lore.

Now conscience wakes despair That slumber'd,-wakes the bitter memory Of what he was, what is, and what must be Worse.

The Tree of Knowledge grew fast by, Knowledge of Good bought dear by knowing ill.