Hung over her enamour'd, and beheld Beauty, which, whether waking or asleep, Shot forth peculiar graces.
John MiltonBy this time, like one who had set out on his way by night, and travelled through a region of smooth or idle dreams, our history now arrives on the confines, where daylight and truth meet us with a clear dawn, representing to our view, though at a far distance, true colours and shapes.
John Milton