That mighty orb of song, The divine Milton.
The vision and the faculty divine; Yet wanting the accomplishment of verse.
The silence that is in the starry sky, / The sleep that is among the lonely hills.
Sensations sweet, Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart.
"What is good for a bootless bene?" With these dark words begins my tale; And their meaning is, Whence can comfort spring When prayer is of no avail?
The Poet, gentle creature as he is, Hath, like the Lover, his unruly times; His fits when he is neither sick nor well, Though no distress be near him but his own Unmanageable thoughts.