And The Earth Self-balanced On

A Gulf Profound As That Serbonian Bog Betwixt Damiata And Mount Casius Old, Where Armies Whole Have Sunk: The Parching Air Burns Frore, And Cold Performs Th' Effect Of Fire. Thither By Harpy-footed Furies Hal'd, At Certain Revolutions All The Damn'd Are Brought, And Feel By Turns The Bitter Change Of Fierce Extremes,-extremes By Change More Fierce; From Beds Of Raging Fire To Starve In Ice Their Soft Ethereal Warmth, And There To Pine Immovable, Infix'd, And Frozen Round, Periods Of Time; Thence Hurried Back To Fire.

A Thousand Fantasies Begin To Throng Into My Memory, Of Calling Shapes, And Beckoning Shadows Dire, And Airy Tongues That Syllable Men's Names On Sands And Shores And Desert Wildernesses

What Call Thou Solitude? Is Not The Earth With Various Living Creatures, And The Air Replenished, And All These At Thy Command To Come And Play Before Thee?

But Peaceful Was The Night Wherein The Prince Of Light His Reign Of Peace Upon The Earth Began.

The Very Essence Of Truth Is Plainness And Brightness; The Darkness And Crookedness Is Our Own. The Wisdom Of God Created Understanding, Fit And Proportionable To Truth, The Object And End Of It, As The Eye To The Thing Visible. If Our Understanding Have A Film Of Ignorance Over It, Or Be Blear With Gazing On Other False Glitterings, What Is That To Truth?