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So when the sun in bed, Curtain'd with cloudy red, Pillows his chin upon an orient wave.

The low'ring element Scowls o'er the darken'd landscape.

While the cock with lively din Scatters the rear of darkness thin, And to the stack or the barn door Stoutly struts his dames before.

He that has light within his own clear breast May sit i' the centre, and enjoy bright day: But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts Benighted walks under the mid-day sun; Himself his own dungeon.

Now conscience wakes despair That slumber'd, wakes the bitter memory Of what he was, what is, and what must be Worse; of worse deeds worse sufferings must ensue!

O Conscience, into what abyss of fears And horrors hast thou driven me, out of which I find no way, from deep to deeper plunged.

Let his tormentor conscience find him out.

But first and chiefest, with thee bring Him that yon soars on golden wing, Guiding the fiery-wheeled throne, The Cherub Contemplation.

In discourse more sweet, Others apart sat on a hill retir'd, In thoughts more elevate, and reasoned high Of Providence, Foreknowledge, Will and Fate, Fixed fate, free will, foreknowledge absolute; And found no end, in wand'ring mazes lost.

With thee conversing I forget all time: All seasons and their change, all please alike.

Of herbs, and other country messes, Which the neat-handed Phillis dresses.

Thus I set my printless feet O'er the cowslip's velvet head, That bends not as I tread.

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

Come and trip it as ye go, On the light fantastic toe.

Dancing in the chequer'd shade.

Those who danced were thought to be quite insane by those who could not hear the music.

Yet from those flames No light, but rather darkness visible.

He seemed For dignity compos'd and high exploit: But all was false and hollow.

Thus repuls'd, our final hope Is flat despair.

Stood up, the strongest and the fiercest spirit That fought in heaven, now fiercer by despair.