But all was false and hollow; though his tongue Dropp'd manna, and could make the worse appear The better reason, 4 to perplex and dash Maturest counsels.

But see! theVirgin blessed Hath laid her Babe to rest. Time is our tedious song should here have ending.

Hide me from day's garish eye, While the bee with honied thigh, That at her flowery work doth sing, And the waters murmuring With such consort as they keep, Entice the dewy-feathered sleep.

Few sometimes may know, when thousands err.

O welcome pure-eyed Faith, white handed Hope, Thou hovering angel girt with golden wings.

Come knit hands, and beat the ground in a light fantastic round

Take heed lest passion sway Thy judgement to do aught, which else free will Would not admit.