Sole reigning holds the tyranny of Heav'n.
Still paying, still to owe. Eternal woe!
Hence, loathèd Melancholy, Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born, In Stygian cave forlorn, 'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights unholy.
Who, as they sung, would take the prison'd soul And lap it in Elysium.
Our reason is our law.
A boundless continent, Dark, waste, and wild, under the frown of night Starless expos'd.